


calling future love

by brokendrums



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Kid Fic, Multi, Surrogacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3340916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faced with an indefinite break from the band and a broody boyfriend, Harry, Niall and Zayn decide to have a baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	calling future love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serenityandtea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityandtea/gifts).



> For [ serenityandtea's ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityandtea) prompt of established Niall/Zayn/Harry relationship where one of them decides they should have a baby. Susan - I've only just noticed the last work you published so I hope this still hits the spot! 
> 
> Huge thanks to [ threeturn ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn) for the beta! You're a star! And thanks to [ baloonflies ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/baloonflies) for modding! 
> 
> Title from Unguarded by Rae Morris.

It all starts with a “But what if?” 

Well actually, it starts with Niall acting a lark and shoving one of Liam’s very fancy, velvety throw pillows up his shirt to make everyone laugh after Sunday dinner. 

Sophia had smiled demurely, pushed her hand down over her massive belly and said, “still not as flipping huge.”

“There’s only so much stuffing I can stick up my jumper, sorry Soph,” Niall had shrugged. He tugged the cushion out by the tassel on the corner and threw it at Harry, who was sitting in the middle of the sofa, beer in hand and looking a little bit lost. 

“It’s only a laugh, Harry,” Niall had said, cracking open another beer and sliding into his lap. There was space on the other side of Louis but he had liked the thought of this seat much better. “You alright?” 

Harry had nodded, nuzzled into his neck and said, “m’fine.”

Except. Now it seems he’s not. 

“Liam’s having a baby,” Harry says into the darkness. Niall groans softly. He’d been just on the edge of falling asleep. 

“You’re only realising this now?” Zayn mumbles between them. He rolls over, snuggling more into Niall’s side. He’ll be out like a light -- no matter how much Harry chatters away now. 

“She’s about to pop,” Niall agrees and curls into the heat of Zayn’s skin. Maybe if he burrows in close enough he can pretend to fall asleep too and Harry’ll take the hint to shut up. 

Liam’s guest bed is a bit smaller than their own so they’re more squashed together, Harry taking up most room at the other end of the mattress the way he‘s sprawled out on his back, staring up at the ceiling. 

“No,” Harry says, and his head pops up all the way across the bed. Niall can make out the bed-head a mile away, even in the dim of Liam’s spare bedroom. “But --”

“Go to sleep, Harry,” Niall sighs, and closes his eyes again. He can tell though, that Harry hasn’t lain back down yet. He pops an eye open, and yep, there he is, still staring at him from the other side of the mattress. 

“I just --” Harry says quietly, voice rough. Niall sighs at the sound, chest tightening at how sad he sounds. “I just like the idea of it. That’s all.” 

“I know you do,” Niall whispers back and opens his arm out for him. He can see the curve of his mouth but his forehead is still dipped down into a frown. “C’mere.”

Zayn makes a noise as Harry climbs over him, snuffles into the space between the pillows but otherwise doesn’t wake up. Niall isn’t sure how because Harry makes a mess of crawling over him, his leg flopping down over Zayn’s hip awkwardly so he’s sprawled out across both of them. 

Harry’s skin is warm when Niall skims his hand down his back, fits his fingers to his ribs and then trails it up the centre of his back. Harry moans softly into Niall’s ear, chin digging into Niall’s shoulder. There’s still a dampness to his hairline, a faded memory of how they went to bed an hour ago, desperate enough to get off in Liam’s house like reckless teenagers. It seems like longer now.

“Don’t stop,” Harry whispers when Niall stills his hand, palm cupped around the nape of his neck. Niall grins into his hair and starts up the slow stroke of his hand again, smoothing as far as he can down over his shoulder. 

“You ok?” Niall checks because Harry doesn’t get like this often; it’s more likely to be Zayn moping about until someone cuddles him better. 

“Yeah,” Harry says quietly. He hugs Niall tighter, a hand squeezed under his armpit. “It’s just you looked really good like that, all rounded out. Sad it’ll never happen, y’know?” 

Niall frowns. He doesn’t really know and that’s sort of the problem. It’s always been a bit of a laugh to him. He strokes his hand through Harry’s hair.

“You’d make such a good dad,” Harry whispers. “You both would.”

Niall’s gut twists. 

“Hey,” he says, lifting a leg up to hug Harry to him properly. It always feels more real when he can wrap him up like an octopus. Harry pulls back and for a moment Niall thinks he’s going to move away completely, leaving the front of his body cold. “You’ll make a good dad too, someday.”

Even in the dark Niall can see the way his face crumples. 

“Shit,” Niall says under his breath, tugging him back down to his chest. “That didn’t come out right.”

“No?” Harry asks sarcastically, but he doesn’t pull away again so Niall takes that as a plus. 

“You know what I mean,” Niall says, and scratches at the base of his skull. Harry melts against him. “When you want them, you’ll be an ace dad.”

Harry sniffs, clears his throat and blows out a boozy breath when he speaks, “But what if --”

Niall swallows. He feels more awake now than he has all evening, the buzz from the beer gone and the drowsy afterglow of coming in Zayn’s mouth fading fast. He knows what Harry’s thinking even before he says it and he suddenly wishes that Zayn was awake beside them now. 

“What if what, Harry?” Niall asks, thumbing over the ridge of the muscles of his neck. 

“What if I want them now?” Harry asks. He sounds very small, even though he’s physically encompassing all of Niall’s space right now. 

Niall tips his head back to suck in a lungful of air. His eyes sting at the tiny, quiet tone of Harry’s voice. Zayn shifts then, his hand coming up from underneath the duvet to tangle where Niall’s is in his hair. 

He’s awake after all but Niall can’t even find it in him to be annoyed, he’s so relieved that he’s heard it all. Niall pets at Harry’s hair and keeps his other thumb rubbing over the warm skin at the back of his hip. 

Niall’s not sure what to say. He _knows_ this was bound to come up but he just wasn’t expecting it so soon. 

Except, maybe he did. 

They’re older now -- even when it doesn’t seem it -- and they’re together, finally properly together with Zayn selling up his house and Harry coming home with them when tour ends. They’ve settled. 

Niall swallows. 

“Then we’ll think about it,” Zayn answers for him, voice rough. 

Harry makes a noise, soft and reluctant, but doesn’t say anything else as Niall and Zayn stroke him to sleep. 

*

Harry’s quiet when they get back home. 

Sophia had seen them off with a slightly pained expression as Liam fussed behind her, clearing up the dishes from their busy breakfast. 

Zayn drives, the newness of passing his test making him the best to deal with the chaotic Monday lunchtime traffic. Niall watches as Harry fidgets the whole way home, his hands curled round the case of his phone and then playing with the hem of his shirt before flicking through the channels on the radio at rapid speed until Zayn clamps a hand down on his wrist. 

“Leave that there,” he says. It’s something with violins that none of the three of them would ever willingly listen to. Harry wilts into his seat, turns his head towards the passenger window, and doesn’t speak the whole way home. 

Niall knows they’ll have to talk about it today, he can’t allow Harry to go to bed tonight when he’s clearly got something heavy on his mind. It’s a rule that they introduced fairly early into their relationship, when they were still dealing with the tricky ins and outs of loving each other. But that doesn’t mean he particularly wants to bring it up. 

He heads for the kitchen instead, starting to tidy and allowing himself a moment to think about it properly. He’s not sure what he would say if they even were to talk about it seriously. 

He washes the last few of the dishes in the sink, lets his fingers go wrinkly in the hot water. The fairy liquid makes his hands dry out once he moves on to cleaning the countertops, wiping them methodically down as he mulls Harry’s question in his head. 

A _baby._

He likes babies -- they’re cute. What’s not to like? They giggle and smile and smell nice. You can bounce them on your knee and then hand them off back to their parents once they start to cry and dribble all over themselves. 

They grow up a little bit and they can walk and tug at your hair and play. Theo’s nearly ten and he’s great craic when Niall sees him every few months, growing taller by the day. He can name the entire 1972 Derby County squad off the top of his head and loiters around at Niall’s elbow until he slips him a few quid without his dad noticing. Lux sends them cute little decorated birthday cards, full of glitter and smudgy little drawings of them together and yaps down the phone to them about her school day and the cute boy in her Chemistry class.

But that’s it. 

Niall can be fun Uncle Niall and then at the end of the day he can leave the house and all the responsibilities there. He doesn’t have to worry about school runs or naptimes or looking after a tiny human being every second of the day. Their lives are already so complicated, with so many extra things that they’d need to think about as a parent. Paparazzi and security. How could they explain that the _three_ of them have a baby together? 

But.

For every way their lives are more complex it’s also so ridiculously easy compared to when Niall was a kid. There would be no scrimping and saving. No threadbare school jumpers or darned knees on trousers because Niall’s fallen on the playground again. No squashed banana sandwiches in front of the telly when it was raining through the summer. Three completely and ridiculously in love with each other parents.

He’s dragging the laundry basket down the stairs when Zayn finally emerges from one of the living rooms at the back of the house. 

“I’m gonna get Harry,” he says, looking determined. Niall nods, chest going tight. 

“Ok,” he says, but Zayn’s already padding barefoot down the hallway to Harry’s office at the back of the house. He had slipped off there as soon as they had gotten in today, dropped his bag in the front hall and disappeared behind closed doors. Niall can hear the faint sound of music, even through the mostly soundproof walls. 

He’s sorting through the washing when they both walk into the utility room. Niall glances up and takes in the apprehensive expression on both of their faces and feels a bit sick. He stays on the ground, one of Harry’s fancy shirts in his hand. He rubs his thumb over the collar, feeling the smoothness of the silk. 

“So,” Zayn says quietly. Niall glances down and balls the shirt in his hand, shoving it into the back of the washing machine. It’s probably dry clean only but he doesn’t care. He’s suddenly too nervous to speak, mouth going too dry. He can feel his heart start to pick up and he’s going red, heat radiating off his cheeks as he sorts through the assortment of three people’s dirty underwear. 

He hears Harry take a deep breath and from the corner of his eye he can still see where they’re standing, fingers linked a few feet from him. 

“I want a baby,” Harry says. His voice has lost last night’s questioning tone. Now Niall can hear the conviction. “And I want to know what you think about that.” 

Niall fiddles with the dial at the front of the washing machine, closes the door and stares at it as it clicks on, a low hum of machinery before the hiss of water gushing into it. It takes a minute or two before the slow, rhythmic whir of the drum turning over starts. 

He sighs and finally looks up. Harry’s face looks open and soft and Niall wants to press his palm to his cheek, thumb over where his bottom lip is wet. 

“It’s just not something I’ve ever seriously thought about,” Niall says. He can see the quiver in Harry’s mouth before he even finishes. 

“Why not?” he asks quietly, and Niall can see how hard he’s fighting to keep it together. Niall sighs and glances over at Zayn. He’s keeping his face blank and Niall feels a pinprick of frustration. He doesn’t want to come across as the bad guy here. 

“It was just one of those things, isn’t it?” Niall asks. He turns back to look at the washing machine. He watches as the water starts to fill up, t-shirts and soft boxers soaking darker as the water rises. “You’re expected to grow up and have a boring job, have a wife and have children.” Niall waves a hand around, gesturing to his non-existent family. “It’s a thing you’re told that will happen. But then all sorts of other things happened instead, the band happened.” He glances up at Harry and Zayn. “You two happened. And I’ve never really thought about a baby fitting into this life. Where’s the wife? Where’s the boring job?”

“Does that mean you don’t want one?” Harry asks. Niall feels his face drop at how blunt he’s being. He places his palms against the cold tiled floor and pushes himself up. His legs ache from kneeling for so long and Zayn’s hand is warm at his elbow to help him up.

“ _No,_ “ Niall tells him over the sound of the washing machine starting in earnest now. “It’s just --”

He takes a breath. 

“Isn’t that why people have kids?” Niall says in a rush. “When couples run out of things to say they just get a kid so they can drag the relationship on for a few more years but then that finally breaks and it’s just --” 

Niall takes a breath and then another, gulping it down because if he doesn’t he’ll choke. 

Harry looks heartbroken and Niall doesn’t really understand for a moment until Harry’s pulling him into his neck and Niall can breathe him in. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Harry says. “That’s not us. That isn’t why I want a baby.”

Niall nods, rubbing his forehead against the soft material of his jumper. “I just think we’re underestimating how difficult it’s going to be. For a start, none of us exactly have any of the right bits.”

Zayn snorts. “I’d like to hope not,” Harry says and folds himself into Niall’s shoulder for a hug again. 

“He’s right though,” Zayn says from the side of their little circle. “How are you meant to get a baby?”

“Adoption?” Harry asks but he’s still half buried in the crook of Niall’s neck. It’s hard to hear him over the sound of the washing. Niall shuffles them to the door, pushing them both into the kitchen so he can shut the door on the noise. 

Neither of them answer in the manoeuvring. Harry goes back into his side and Niall bites his lip, drags his hand up Harry’s spine again. He’s never thought about this either. It seems a little bit scary. 

Zayn’s face turns down and Niall can’t look at Harry, afraid of what he’ll find etched on his face, so he stays quiet, heart hammering loud enough that will probably give him away. 

“I sort of like the idea of a tiny Harry running about,” Zayn finally answers and steps in close enough so Niall can smell the shower gel off his skin. He’s looking down at Harry though, lifting his hands so he can set a palm on each of his cheeks. 

Harry laughs softly. “Baby Zayn would be cuter.”

Zayn grins at him, nose crinkling up and then he leans to kiss him wetly. Harry hums into it but doesn’t move from where he’s curved into Niall’s side. Zayn pulls away from him gently, turning his head to kiss Niall too. 

He looks strangely serious when he does, his smile gentle still but there’s something in his eyes that looks sincere when he pulls away, mouth settling in a soft line. 

And that’s how Niall knows Zayn’s agreeing. He’s saying yes. 

Niall presses forward, kissing him sweetly. He takes a breath, still pressed in close. He can feel Harry’s hand on his side and the weight of his gaze but he doesn’t turn around just yet. Zayn kisses him again, a little bit of encouragement the best way he can. 

He pulls away with a sigh and turns around to Harry, catches the hopeful brightness in his eyes that he’s not able to completely hide. 

He knows he’s on the edge of something, that something important is about to shift right here, right now. Niall thinks that they should be somewhere a bit more grander, not standing barefoot in their kitchen with the washing machine kicking into full spin behind them.

He thinks of saying no. But that doesn’t sit right with him either. 

Harry stares at him long enough for some of the brightness to fade and Niall understands not only how much he wants this but how much he wants it for the _three_ of them. 

He kisses his yes into Harry’s lips, a quick hot press of his mouth against Harry’s before he pulls away. He feels shaky, like he’s tipped himself right over the edge. But Harry laughs giddily against him, tugging Zayn in to share in some of the kissing, and Niall knows he’s done the right thing.

*

Niall wakes up to fingers trailing down his back, thumb catching on the waistband of his boxers.

"Sleeping," Niall mumbles, pushing his face into the pillow. It smells of their fabric softener and Harry's hair conditioner.

"It's morning," Zayn tells him, and then he's pressing in against him, breath hot at the back of Niall's neck.

"Well, someone is awake early," Niall says, pushing his bum back into Zayn's front. He should make the most of this -- Zayn’s normally the last one up. 

"Harry woke me up, fucking tease." Aggravation breaks into Zayn’s tone but Niall can hear the smile in it. He flops back, pressing his shoulder into Zayn’s warm chest. It’s light outside, faint sunlight creeping through where the curtains haven’t been drawn properly. 

“Where is he?” Niall asks, rolling clumsily over so he can press himself chest to chest with Zayn. Zayn looks lovely like this, all soft around the edges with the light landing on his cheek. 

“Shower,” Zayn mumbles, pressing in for a good morning kiss. Niall kisses him back easily, pushing his knee through Zayn’s warm thighs. 

“Don’t think we’ll be able to do this with a baby,” Zayn says when he pulls back, stifling a yawn into Niall’s neck. 

Niall smiles. “Probably not, no.”

Zayn glances up at him with a careful expression. “You ok with this?” 

Niall pauses. There hadn’t been a moment long enough the day before for just the two of them. After their talk, Harry had dragged them to bed and then they hadn’t really left it. 

“I think so,” Niall says quietly. Zayn nods, hair mussing against the pillow. He leans in, breathes against the wet of Niall’s lips. “Are you?” Niall asks. 

He feels Zayn’s fingers still where they’re trailing over Niall’s hip but he doesn’t look startled when Niall opens his eyes. He’s still got sleep in his eyes and a soft bleary look about him. 

“Yeah,” Zayn says just as quiet. “I want Harry to be happy.”

Niall’s stomach turns. There’s a niggling feeling in the back of his head that they haven’t thought this through enough. That it’s been too easy. Two days ago this wasn’t on the table and now they’re planning a baby.

“I want you to be happy, too,” Niall tells him quietly, punctuating it with a kiss to his slack mouth. 

Zayn’s face breaks into a soft smile. “I’ll be happy, I promise. It‘ll be nice.”

Niall rubs his fingers against his shoulder, pulling him in for a proper hug. Zayn sighs, rolling slightly so he can get Niall’s back against the mattress. The sheets tangle around them but Niall couldn’t care less how uncomfortable it is when Zayn brushes against his mouth again, deepening it into a proper kiss. 

“What am I missing here then?” Harry asks and flops onto the bed beside them. Niall had barely heard the bathroom door open.

“Get off,” Zayn tells him, pushing a hand up to his warm shoulder. He’s still damp, hair dripping into the sheets as he wriggles out of his towel on top of the duvet. 

“Zayn,” Harry singsongs, and Niall laughs into Zayn’s mouth, breaking the kiss. 

“C’mere, then,” Niall says to him and Harry gives Zayn a smug little smile and pushes in to kiss Niall. His hair is cold against Niall’s neck and it makes him shiver but he pulls him closer anyway. 

Harry’s happiness is infectious and it makes Niall wonder how he had kept it hidden for so long. He seems so much more open now like this. Harry runs his tongue through Niall’s mouth, leans back to suck on his bottom lip. Niall sighs, feels Harry’s eyelashes against his cheek, and it’s easy to let it turn lazy, soaking up the body heat from both of them pressed in close. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers when the kiss comes to an end. He’s still pressed in tight, says the words right into Niall’s slack mouth. His hand is cupped around Niall’s chin, his thumb pressed to the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think I said that last night.” 

Zayn breathes calmly beside them, his chest expanding slowly with every stable breath. It’s quiet. Niall can hear the own thud of his heart and feel Harry’s when he moves his hand, palm pressed flat against his chest. 

He doesn’t say anything back to him. He doesn’t have to. 

Harry melts into him, trapping Niall’s hand awkwardly between them, and Zayn huffs a laugh, throwing an arm around them both. 

They lie there until Niall could fall asleep again, trapped between them in a cocoon of sheets and warm skin. Harry’s hair dries in frizzy little wisps that tickle the side of Niall’s face whenever he shifts. 

They haven’t done this in ages. It makes Niall think of sneaky days off between cities where they would lie in bed as long as they could, but it’s different at home, in their own bed. It’s startling to Niall that this could be their life now. The next album placed on indefinite hold as they all catch up with their lives. Catch a breath and just let life play out between the three of them. 

Niall swallows. Maybe four of them. 

“So,” Niall asks quietly. He knows neither of them are properly asleep, even if Zayn’s eyelids are fluttering and Harry’s breathing has evened out. “How do three men acquire a baby?”

Harry snuffles a laugh against him and he shifts over, spreading out in the space beside Niall in the bed. He’s completely starkers and Niall grins at him, lets his eyes trail down over the tanned cut of his hip, the few patches of skin that are still devoid of ink. 

Zayn stays tucked up against Niall‘s side. “Just ask someone?” he murmurs. He must’ve been closer to sleep than Niall had thought. He tucks his arm around his shoulders, pushing his thumb into the skin of his bicep. 

“You can’t just ask any random girl we know,” Niall says, kicking out of the sheet to hook a foot over Harry’s ankle. It feels like they should still be touching for conversations like this. Harry turns his head, smiles brightly at him. 

“Is it not really complicated?” Zayn asks. “Lots of hospital appointments?”

“You find someone who is willing to do it,” Harry says. His voice is quiet but steady. “And they either let you use her egg and one of our sperm or we go to a clinic and find an egg donor and it all gets put in to her.”

Niall wonders how long he’s been thinking about this. He sounds far more clued in than he would expect for them all just agreeing yesterday. 

He can see the way Zayn’s staring at him too and knows he’s thinking the same. 

“There’s all sorts of rules and regulations,” Harry says. “Like if we did it here in London we can’t pay her for it, or advertise for someone to help. We need to find her ourselves and then we would all work together to get her ready for it. If she’s married her husband has to agree. Stuff like that.”

“See. Complicated,” Zayn mutters. Niall tightens his hold on him. 

Harry glances over then and Niall can see how he’s turned nervous. Niall drags his ankle up Harry’s leg, catching on the hair of his calf. 

“It’s early stages,” Harry says after a moment. He curls onto his side, curving back into Niall’s body. Zayn blinks at him and waits. “You’ll soon catch on.”

Zayn laughs quietly against Niall’s chest. “I’m sure you’ll keep me right, Harry.”

Harry grins and presses forward until he can get a hand on him and they’re all tucked in together again. 

“I suppose now we have to be super nice to all our female friends?” Niall asks, breaking the silence between them. Harry laughs and Niall can feel the vibration against his ribs. It makes him smile, to see how happy Harry is. It makes him seem younger, the frown on his forehead all smoothed out and his grin bright. 

“We should keep this quiet, though. Right?” Zayn asks and Harry nods, blinking his eyes open slowly. 

“Just us,” he agrees. “Until we at least have somebody in mind?”

Niall nods. Bites his lip. It seems weird that they’ll be scouting someone to carry their baby. The whole idea of a baby is still daunting. 

Harry sighs against him and Zayn starts humming a tune as he stretches out beside him. It sounds like a lullaby. 

*

They tell Louis -- or rather, Harry blurts it out to him as they stand in the hallway of St. Mary’s waiting for Liam to come back a father. They shouldn’t really be here but Louis had demanded to stay so the rest had too. 

Louis goes very quiet. 

“Christ, a band full of dads already,” Louis says. Zayn’s gone very still in the seat next to Niall as they watch the two of them stand next to the door. “How’s that going to work then? Have there been some advancements of science while I wasn’t looking?” 

“We’ll get a surrogate,” Harry says with an easy shrug. He bites his lip, eyes raking over Louis’ face to gauge his reaction. He looks hungry with it, cheeks a little pink and Niall knows what he’s going to ask before he even opens his eyes. 

“Actually,” Harry says and Zayn stiffens. Louis raises an eyebrow. “About that. Do you think Elea--”

Louis starts to laugh and Niall sees the way Harry’s face falls. His cheeks go redder, hair wilting around his ears in the heat of the hospital. 

“Oh,” Louis says, face going slack. “You’re actually serious?” 

Harry nods and then Louis glances over to Zayn and Niall to check if Harry’s really not just bullshitting him. Niall doesn’t change his expression but he supposes it’s the correct mix of horrified disbelief that Harry asked him and disappointment that Louis laughed to confirm that Harry’s being serious. 

Louis face goes soft then and he reaches out, skims a hand down over Harry’s shoulder. “Oh, Harry.”

“That’s a no, then?” Harry asks him and Niall can hear the faux bravado in his voice. He’s trying his hardest to turn it into a joke. Louis sighs, mouth turning down. 

“You’d have to ask her,” Louis says as gently as he can. “But I’m pretty sure if she did think about having children that they’d, y’know, be ours.”

Harry nods his head and quietly turns to take a seat near the door. He seems too far away and Niall would get up to comfort him but he feels stuck to his seat, half-frozen. 

Louis sits beside him and reaches across the armrest to grab his hand. Niall sees Harry smile a little and it makes him feel better, warms his chest. 

“Hey,” Liam says from the doorway. He looks exhausted, face red and blotchy. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“Well?” Louis asks, fingers gripping the edge of his seat. Liam grins at him.

“He’s here,” he tells them. “About an hour ago. Seven pounds, eight. They’re both doing so well.”

He chokes a little and lifts a hand to his face. He looks completely in awe. 

“A boy!” Harry crows and jumps to his feet, pulling him into a hug. Liam laughs against him as Louis crowds in behind him. 

Liam nods and his eyes have gone watery. “I’ve held him. He’s --” Liam cuts off and then beams at him. Niall can hardly look at his face completely straight, it’s as bright as the sun. “He’s just everything --”

Niall smiles and joins the hug. “Congratulations.”

“Sophia should be sleeping,” Liam tells them in a whisper. “But do you want to come and see him?”

Louis laughs softly and pats at his shoulder. “Showing him off already?”

Liam sucks in a shallow breath and then he’s locking his fingers around Harry’s wrist and tugging him down the corridor. Louis grabs Niall’s hand to follow and Niall reaches back to link with Zayn’s hand, the five of them weaving through the busy hallway in a line like ducks towards the private rooms. 

Sophia’s on her side when they get there, watching the little bundle of baby in the cot next to the bed. 

“Hiya,” Louis whispers quietly once they’re all inside. She looks all tucked in and on the edge of sleep so Niall feels like he’s intruding but Sophia smiles softly and beckons them closer. 

“Do you want to hold?” she asks as Liam carefully picks the baby up in his hands. 

He turns to Harry but Harry shakes his head, stepping back half a foot. He’s biting his lip, eyes gone watery. Niall watches him carefully because he’s normally the first one to jump at the chance to hold a baby. 

“I’ll hold,” Niall offers and Harry glances up as Liam carefully transfers the baby into the cradle of his arm. He’s tiny, just about the size of his hands put together. He screws his pink little face up and his tiny chin drops as if he’s yawning. It makes Niall’s breath catch, something so small.

“Hey, baby,” he says softly. Zayn touches his hand gently to Niall’s shoulder, leaning in to have a look. 

From the corner of his eye he sees Harry quietly slip out of the room.

*

He finds him back in the waiting room. His eyes bloodshot, like maybe he’s had a bit of a cry but his cheeks are dry now. 

“Hi,” Niall says quietly and kneels down in front of him so Harry can’t avert his gaze. 

“Hello,” he replies, throat clogged up. 

“Are you alright?” Niall asks, reaching up to take one of Harry’s hands in his own. He presses their palms together so their fingers can interlock. One of his bracelets tickles Niall’s wrist. 

“I just really want it.” Harry just comes right out and says it. Niall nods encouragingly for him to go on. “Liam’s so-- happy.”

Niall smiles. He presses his free hand to the warm denim of his knee. 

“He is,” Niall agrees with him and offers him a small smile when Harry meets his eyes. “And you will be too.”

“I just --” Harry starts but his voice seems tight. Niall squeezes his fingers. The door to the waiting room is open so he doesn’t want to kiss him properly but he rubs his thumb soothingly over the knobbles of his knees. 

“What was it that you said?” Niall asks him. Harry meets his gaze. “That it was early days?”

Harry’s face tightens and Niall squeezes his hand again. 

“It’s going to be a wee bit hard,” Niall tells him and he has no idea what’s come over him. He’s calm, something settling in his stomach. He thinks of the warm weight of a baby in his arms and when he closes his eyes he can see the smile Zayn gave him, small and full of love as Niall passed him the baby. 

He knows what Harry’s talking about now. That ache to bring something -- _someone_ \-- into the world. 

“We can’t just make a baby out of nothing,” Niall tells him. “It’s going to take some work. And I don’t want you to get upset at every little stumble.”

Harry swallows, Niall can hear in the quiet stretching between them. 

“You look really good with a baby,” Harry says, his face breaking into a smile. “Even if you need to work on your hold.”

Niall laughs. “Well come on then, you can teach me. Baby Payne needs to meet his favourite Uncle Harry.”

Harry sniffles and leans in for a hug. It’s awkward because of the way they’re sitting but Niall hugs him back, their hands still pressed between them. 

“Love you,” Harry says easily and Niall smiles. No matter how many times he says it, it still feels as good as the first time. 

“And I love you,” Niall replies, pressing his lips into his frizz of hair in a sneaky kiss. “Come on. We have a baby to coddle.”

*

“We could ask Gemma?” Harry says quietly one evening. Very quietly. He’s curled up around a pillow in the middle of the sofa looking sleepy. He had been round at Liam’s all day and came home smelling vaguely of baby sick and talcum powder but with a giant grin on his face. 

“Don’t really fancy boning your sister,” Zayn mutters from the floor where he’s setting up the X Box. Niall snorts and reaches up to ruffle his hand into the mop of hair Harry’s sporting at the minute. Harry’s pout melts off his face, mollified for the moment by Niall’s attention, eyes slipping closed. 

“Even if you kind of do look like her,” Niall mutters, scrunching up a handful of hair in his fist. Harry’s eyes snap open to glare at him but he blinks it away when he sees Niall’s grin. 

“I’m being serious though,” Harry says. Niall keeps his hand in Harry’s hair. Zayn’s very still in the corner, his shoulders set where he’s stooped over the tangle of wires in front of him. 

“You wouldn’t be able to be the father,” Zayn finally says. Harry shifts his head, Niall’s hand trailing out of his hair. 

The air has gone stilted around them and Niall hates it, it feels like there’s something always hanging over them now. They’re getting into the nitty and gritty of it -- Harry sitting up in bed at night reading legal jargon from his iPad and making meetings with their lawyers. 

“I know,” Harry says and pushes himself up. Zayn still hasn’t looked around at them, Niall’s never wanted to see his face more. “But wouldn’t it be better? Then the baby would be, like, completely made up of us?” 

Zayn’s head snaps up but he doesn’t look happy. Niall’s not sure why. He’d quite like to see a mini Harry and Zayn running about the house.

“And what about the third person?” 

Niall swallows. Oh. Harry’s face looks blank. 

“What about him?” Harry asks quietly. He looks like he needs a hug and Niall wants to reach up and cuddle him but Zayn’s looking equally as bereft across the room. He suddenly wishes he was back in his old flat now, this living room is far too big for things like this. He can’t stretch his arms and touch them both. 

“Well,” Zayn glances up, catches Niall’s eye and then snaps them back to Harry. “Wouldn’t that be leaving someone out? The girl bit would be all Styles and then the boy bit would be either me or Niall and I‘m pretty sure you‘d be able to tell once it comes out. Isn‘t that unfair?” 

Harry’s face twists but he doesn’t answer. “We’ll figure out whose it is at some point. No matter who the mother is.”

“I just don’t want anything to ruin what we’ve got,” Zayn says quietly. His shoulders shudder and he looks back down at his lap. “It feels like we’ve finally settled and I don’t want to change that.”

“Nothing will change that,” Niall promises. He feels slightly out of his depth. “A baby will only be a good thing.”

Zayn shakes his head and Harry slides off the sofa, getting to his feet slowly. 

“If you don’t want a baby,” Harry says with a shaky breath. “You have to say now.”

Zayn looks up. “I _do_. You know I do, it’s just --”

“Just what?” Harry asks and his voice has dropped into that blank tone that Niall hates. Zayn scrambles to his feet, face dropping.

“Come on,” Niall whispers, turning to see how glassy Zayn’s eyes look. He holds an arm open and Zayn walks into him, letting Niall press his lips against the scruff of his cheek. “There’s nothing you can say that will make us mad.” 

“I just don’t want any of us to resent the others later,” Zayn blurts out and then lifts a hand to his eyes. Niall feels a bit sick, Zayn never cries. “Like what if it’s Niall’s and Gemma’s and there you two are, off playing happy families and I’m just --” He sucks in a rattling breath. “I’m just some afterthought. That crazy phase the two of you went through in your twenties but now you’ve got a baby, you can’t have this dysfunctional --” He chokes a bit and Niall curls closer to him, pressing his chest right up against his side. _“Family.”_

Harry crashes into them with such a force that Niall has to take a step back, accommodating for both his weight and Zayn’s. 

“I don’t want that to happen,” Harry says but it’s muffled where his face is buried in Zayn’s shoulder. “That’s the last thing I want to happen.”

“But it could happen,” Zayn mutters miserably. 

Niall opens his mouth to reassure him that it won’t but Harry beats him to it. 

“I want a baby _with_ you and Niall,” Harry tells him. “I want the three of us to have a baby and I don’t care how we get one.”

Zayn gives him a watery smile. “You have to stop saying things like that babe. People will start to worry that you’re planning to steal one.”

Harry grins at him and then punches him gently on the side with his knuckles. “Piss off.”

Niall laughs and squeezes them tighter. 

“Phone her.” Zayn’s voice still sounds rough but he offers Harry a smile when they turn to look at him. “Phone her and we’ll ask her.”

*

“Alright,” Gemma says once she’s settled in her chair opposite them. She runs her finger around the edge of her water glass and looks at each one of them in turn. “What’s this all about? It feels like I’m at an interview or something.”

“I wanted to tell you something,” Harry says. He’s sitting between them, hands curled around his napkin. It looks like he wants to shred it but it’s made out of linen and it won’t tear apart. They decided on something a bit more fancy for lunch, somewhere where they wouldn’t be overheard or likely to be interrupted. It had seemed like a good plan at the start but now that they’re sitting down, three sets of cutlery arranged precisely around their plate and loose, tinkling piano music the only other thing breaking the silence around them, Niall’s not so sure. 

Gemma smiles at him. She’s got purple lipstick on and looks wicked, her teeth flashing white when she tears half a bread roll in half. Niall’s suddenly hit with a wave of _hope._ “Good, I want to tell you something too.” She glances at Niall and Zayn and then down at her menu. “Now, can you all stop looking like you’re about to vomit and tell me? It‘s worrying.”

“Uhm,” Harry says and reaches for the jug of water in front of him. His hand is shaking when he lifts it to his glass, the rim clinking off the side as he pours. He reaches for Niall’s glass next, sloshing water over the side in his haste. Niall reaches forward then, taking the jug off him and setting it back onto the tablecloth. 

He drags Harry’s hand off the table and into his lap, squeezing his fingers around it. 

“We’re having a baby,” Harry finally blurts out, voice breaking a bit. Niall winces and glances at him. He’s gone pale and Niall can see him visibly swallow, his throat working mechanically. Harry opens his mouth again but nothing comes out of it.

“We’re --” Niall starts. It isn’t really his place to ask but Harry looks like he’s going to cough up a canary so he drags his eyes away from the ashen side of Harry’s face and looks over at Gemma, who’s gone a bit pale herself, mouth stark on her face. “We are _thinking_ of having a baby and were wondering if you’d maybe consider --”

The waiter takes that moment to arrive, the bottle of wine in hand. He starts to pour it into Zayn’s glass, just a splash for him to taste. Zayn nods at him, looking a bit out of his depth and the waiter reaches for his glass again, filling it up half way. The silence stretches out awkwardly between them. Niall’s heart is thudding in his chest, the reality of what he’s asking hitting him. Harry’s fingers clench around his own. 

The waiter goes for Gemma’s glass next and she lifts a hand, pushing her fingers over the rim to stop him. She looks at them in turn before looking up at Harry again, her mouth downturned and just as pale. 

“I’m pregnant,” she mutters. 

And it feels like the ground has been pulled out underneath Niall, his stomach dropping like he’s missed a step. It seems like Harry gasps loudly, the air wrenching out of him. It’s too quiet around them as everything settles. 

The waiter melts away and everything fades out to white noise. Harry’s fingers are like a death grip around Niall’s hand and that’s the only thing that’s keeping him there, everything else in Niall’s body is urging him to get up and _go_.

“I’m already pregnant,” she repeats but it sounds like she’s telling herself. 

“Fuck,” Zayn says softly from the other side of Harry. Niall glances over at him but he can’t see anything apart from his fingers laced with Harry’s other hand -- Harry’s distraught face takes up most of his vision. And this is the bit he didn’t want to see -- Harry upset after putting all his eggs in one basket again. 

“I’m so sorry,” Gemma says but her voice has dropped down to a whisper. The roar in Niall’s ears cuts out as Harry takes a wet, rattling breath. “Harry.”

She reaches across the table and Niall untangles his fingers so Harry can take it. He doesn’t though, his hand just rests limply in Niall’s lap, knuckles curled against the inseam of Niall’s jeans. 

“Congratulations,” Niall says because none of them have said anything in a drawn out moment. It sounds thin so he clears his throat and forces a smile on his face. He doesn’t want Gemma’s good news to be taken badly. She should be happy. “I’m sure this isn’t the way you wanted to tell us.” 

Gemma gives him a watery smile and a half shrug. “When do we ever do anything the easy way?”

Harry pushes out of his chair abruptly and Niall catches the way Gemma’s face falls. Zayn pushes out of his chair too, probably thinking along the same wavelength as Gemma that Harry’s bolting but falls back into it without getting very far. It’s the first time Niall’s been able to see his face and he’s slightly reassured that Zayn can’t keep the disappointment off his face either. 

“Congratulations,” Harry says, walking around the table to gather her into a hug. Niall’s so glad that Harry’s smile seems genuine. Gemma grins back and lets out a laugh into his shoulder. He can see the way she relaxes against him, her face softening out, just like Harry’s been looking since he had first dropped the Baby-Bomb. 

Niall looks away, feeling a bit like he’s intruding on a moment and turns back to Zayn instead. Zayn smiles at him, just a quirk of his mouth, and shuffles into Harry’s seat so he can press their knees together. 

“Cheers,” Zayn says, giving him another weak smile and handing him his glass full of wine. It’s too dry when Niall takes a sip, catching the back of his throat, but Zayn pours himself a large glass and clinks them together as Harry and Gemma murmur quietly together at the other side of the table.

“Cheers,” Niall says belatedly, toe edging around the heel of Zayn’s boot, knees pressed tightly together. 

*

“We could go to LA,” Harry says from where he‘s sprawled out over the rug in the living room. He holds a hand up into the air and lets it drop back down onto his face. “Get some sun, get a surrogate.”

Zayn laughs beside him. “Easy as that?” 

Harry shrugs, shoulders rubbing against the carpet. “It’s all the rage.”

“I couldn’t be the dad then,” Niall says, and it feels foreign on his tongue. 

_Dad_. It’s the first time he’s said it about himself. He’s been thinking about it more and more since they’ve gotten home from lunch. The disappointment settling despondently in his stomach. 

“Why?” Zayn asks, stifling a yawn into the crook of his elbow. He looks sleepy, eyelids drooping but that might just be from too much wine.

“I’m Irish,” Niall reminds them, waving a hand just for emphasis. 

Harry laughs after a moment of silence. It hangs in the air before he says, “I’m perfectly fine with having an Irish baby.”

“Yeah, it’d be cute right up until they’re like seven and start demanding whiskey in their tea,” Zayn murmurs, dousing out the pleasant warmth Niall’s feeling at Harry‘s words. 

Niall kicks him. “I’m telling your mum.”

Zayn laughs but drags a hand over his hip, leaving it there. 

“I dunno if Baby-Niall would be as cute without the accent though,” Harry says thoughtfully. “She’d just have tatty blonde hair and a fucked up threeway hybrid accent.” 

“Hey,” Niall protests and tries to aim a kick at Harry too but he’s too far away. Zayn’s still sniggering at _threeway_. “She’ll have that anyway.”

Harry snorts. 

“And I’m sure one of us could figure out how to brush her hair,” Niall says, because he has a bit of faith in them at least.

“I’m not so sure,” Harry says mournfully. “And all she’d want to do is dance all day. Jig her way through all the good wooden floors in the house.”

“And dress in green,” Zayn agrees. “Be aggressively patriotic when it comes to sport.”

“I see no fault in any of these things,” Niall shrugs. He knows better than to rise to their teasing. “Anyway it wouldn’t matter, we’d be forced to live in Ireland.” 

“What are you on about?” Zayn asks, curling away from him when Niall kicks him again -- this time by accident. 

“I’m Irish,” Niall says again, like that part wasn’t already clear. 

“Yeah,” Harry laughs. “No shit.”

“We wouldn’t be able to get back into the UK,” Niall tells him, sitting up because he does actually have a point underneath all the ribbing. “It would be all complicated.”

Harry stares at him, face falling. “You’ve lived here for like ten years, pretty sure they’d class you as a--”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Niall warns him and Zayn laughs again. 

“Face it, Niall, you’re basically English.” Zayn tugs at the bottom of his jeans playfully. 

“No,” Niall groans and tries to roll away. “I can’t hear you, la, la, la.”

Harry lets out a whoop of laughter and clambers over him. He nearly brains himself on the corner of the coffee table in the effort it takes to sprawl over him. Niall clenches his eyes shut and starts singing louder. 

“You’re one of us now,” Harry singsongs, leaning down to lick across his cheek. Niall lets out a startled laugh. 

“Never,” he says breathlessly. Harry’s pressing all his weight down on his belly. He’ll need to pee in a moment. “Maybe I should just be the dad then, save the kid while I can. Don‘t know why you both don’t want her to be automatically Irish anyway.”

Harry giggles and catches his mouth in a kiss. Niall’s not expecting it but melts into it quickly, head falling back to kiss him properly. He can feel Zayn’s hand still wrapped around his foot, thumb rubbing over the tickly knob of his ankle. 

“Well, we better do it here then,” Harry says quietly when they break apart. “I want you in the running.”

Niall grins at him. There’s a swoop of warmth in his belly at that. At the fact that Harry wouldn’t mind if the baby was his. Zayn’s thumb rubs at his ankle again.

“Okay,” Niall says and it feels like he’s agreeing to so much more. Harry smiles at him, shifts until Niall groans lowly. “Alright. Gonna piss myself, you heavy lump.”

Harry wriggles on top of him again, just to be a dick. Niall laughs into his mouth before shoving him off. He lands with a thump at Niall’s feet and turns into Zayn, crawling up between his legs to kiss him instead. 

Niall snorts and leaves them to it, walking through the quiet house towards the bathroom. He isn’t sure how much longer it will be this quiet in the wee hours of the morning. 

The thought makes him smile. Maybe they’d turn the room next to theirs into the nursery, paint it all lilac and pale yellows. Zayn could draw cartoons, they’d tell stories spread around the room. There would be notches up the side of the wardrobe, little marks every time they grew an inch. 

Niall drags a toothbrush around his mouth and thinks of a fourth mini-set of toothbrushes in the cup along with their own. Their bathroom would be a mess, mud splattered football boots kicked under the sink and hair gel gooped over the taps or sparkly clips lying in the threads of the matt, just waiting for Niall to stand on them in his bare feet. 

He stares at himself in the mirror. Takes in the face before him. He looks tired, hair flopping over his forehead. There’s crimson caked in the corners of his mouth from the wine and toothpaste dripping down his chin. 

He doesn’t look like a father. 

His chest pangs at the memory of Gemma today, of her sad little smile when she hugged them each goodbye and apologised again. Niall had laughed her off, taking over from Harry when he looked like his emotions were going to get the better of him. 

Maybe he’ll never have the chance to look like one. 

He blinks the thought away as soon as he thinks it. There’s always a Plan B. He knows Harry won’t give up with that. 

He just hadn’t realised how much he had been hoping that they wouldn’t _need_ it. 

It’s on his way back that he hears them, hushed whispers Niall can only make out because the playlist filtering through the speakers has long since stopped. 

“Are you sure?” Harry’s asking quietly. 

“Yeah,” Zayn replies, just as quiet. “I’ll ask her. I’ll probably need you both with me though.”

“We’re not expecting you to ask,” Harry tells him and Zayn huffs out a laugh. 

“I know, that’s half the reason I’m going to. Neither of you even mentioned it,” Zayn says with a rough honesty that makes Niall’s heart swell. He clears his throat then and steps through the door. 

They’re still tangled on the floor, Harry on his back this time, Zayn sprawled across him. He’s got his shirt off, Harry’s hands spread wide on his hips. 

“Bedtime?” Niall asks. He isn’t going to pry into what they were talking about -- even though he could guess. They’ll probably tell him soon enough. 

Zayn smiles at him, lifts a hand into the air for Niall to pull him up properly. Harry comes easily after him, tripping a bit over the cushions. His fly is open and Niall laughs, pulling him along by the loose belt loops. 

They go quietly about their night time routine -- Niall locks the doors, turns off the lights and checks the alarm while Harry brushes his teeth and Zayn crawls straight into bed. 

They’re both there when he gets there, tangled together and already naked. Harry pulls away from where he’s mouthing along Zayn’s neck to watch as Niall gets undressed. 

“Alright?” Niall asks as he kicks off his pants and slides into the bed. Harry smiles at him, dipping down to nudge at Zayn’s shoulder. 

“What are you doing the next couple of days?” Zayn asks him quietly. Niall shrugs, shuffling across the bed so he can feel their warmth instead of just chilly sheets. They’re properly on break now, nothing even sneakily pencilled into their calendars. He’s free for weeks.

“Nothing, why?” Niall asks. He pushes his knee through a set of legs -- Zayn’s he thinks -- and shifts so he’s sharing his pillow too.

“Fancy a trip to Bradford?” Zayn asks quietly. So this is what they were talking about. Harry’s looking hopefully at him over Zayn’s shoulder, a soft smile on his face, and Niall grins back, kisses his agreement instead of saying it into Zayn’s mouth. 

*

They leave before it’s properly dawn, Harry yawning into the steering wheel and Zayn quietly crawling into the back. Niall nearly goes with him but Harry hands him a flask of sugary tea and asks him to keep him awake. 

They listen to the radio in the background, songs fading into one another as they go up the M1 until Harry finally asks, “You nervous?”

And just like that Niall’s hit with a wave of déjà vu. Harry behind the wheel and Zayn too nervous to drift off in the back. The only difference is that it isn’t Christmas and they aren’t heading up to Zayn’s parents to break the news that they’re all in a relationship together. 

"Wee bit," Niall admits quietly. He knows Zayn will probably hear but he doesn't fancy announcing it to the car at large. "Feels worse because we've already done it. What if Doniya’s pregnant too?"

Harry snorts but Niall catches the way his hand clenches on the steering wheel.

"Feels like I should have a sister," Niall says as the news starts on the radio, the jingle for Newsbeat grating after the third time hearing it. "You know I'd offer her if I did?"

Harry laughs properly then. "You can't just offer out your imaginary sister Niall! She‘s not a cow at the market."

"She'd say yes, I'm sure of it," Niall jokes. Harry smiles at him but at the next junction he reaches across the gear stick and grabs his hand. Niall squeezes his fingers until it's their turn for the roundabout and lets go, right up until they pull into Zayn’s drive when he can‘t help but reach for him again.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry says reassuringly as Zayn climbs out of the back, face set in a frown and leads the way up the path to the door. It’s cool out, the threat of rain hanging heavy in the sky. 

Zayn doesn’t go for the handle, his shoulders set as he stares at it. Niall and Harry stand a pace behind him, not pushing him despite the cold. 

Zayn turns abruptly on his heel and he’s pale under the beanie that’s pulled down over his hair. “What if I can’t do it?”

“It’s ok,” Niall says immediately. Harry steps in, just enough that they’re all sharing body heat. “That’s why we’re here.”

Zayn looks at him, really looks at him and Niall returns his gaze wholeheartedly. 

“One step at a time,” Harry says as he gathers them both into a hug, Niall’s cheek pressed to the cool of Zayn’s hoodie from where he’s standing the next step up. 

“What on earth are you all doing on the doorstep?” Zayn’s mum asks, and they all break apart. She gazes at them all quizzically before reaching for Zayn to pull into a hug. “You’ll all catch your death.”

“Sorry, mum,” Zayn says and goes easily into her embrace. She smiles softly and then frowns when Zayn doesn’t let go, burrowing further into her neck instead, nearly bent in half to reach her height. Her eyes flick over to the others then and Niall does his best to smile at her, forcing everything into it so he doesn’t make her worry. 

“You’re just in time for lunch,” she murmurs, hand pushing the hat off his head to run through his hair. “I’ve made more biryani.”

“Ah, now we’re talking, Trish,” Niall says, elbowing Zayn out of the way to hug her too. She laughs and pulls him into a hug. 

“Don’t worry, there’s a batch of samosas too,” she tells him, hands going round his waist. Niall gives her a squeeze. 

“Music to my ears,” Niall tells her, letting go for Harry to give her a hug. 

The house smells amazing and it feels warm, enveloping as they walk over the threshold.

“Come on,” she says and starts to usher them down the familiar route to the kitchen. “Lunch time.”

“I should bring the bags --” Zayn starts. He’s back to looking like he’s about to puke. Harry reaches out and touches his shoulder, nudging him to follow his mother through the house. 

“Hey!” Safaa calls from the head of the table as soon as they get there. It’s a full house, the table already laden with food and glasses and plates. Most of Zayn’s family are there, aunts and a few cousins. Zayn makes a beeline for his dad, pulling him into a hug before he starts to go round the table doling out hugs to everyone. Trisha tuts and hands Niall a plate. 

“Say hello to everyone later,” she suggests as Waliyha makes a space beside her at the table for Niall to sit down between her and Doniya‘s husband. 

He turns to hand Harry a plate but he’s gone from beside him and already halfway down the table towards the baby on Doniya’s knee. 

“Hello,” he coos, reaching out to hoist the baby into his arms. “Look at you, missy, already getting so big!” 

Doniya smiles up at him. “Nearly a year,” she supplies, reaching out to reshape the sock on the baby’s foot. Harry pulls a funny face when she starts to fuss, leaning in to brush a kiss against her chubby cheek. 

“Wait til you see what Uncle Zayn has gotten for you,” Harry singsongs to her. “Spoilt you rotten, hasn’t he?” 

Harry blows a raspberry into her neck and Alya lets out a giggle, wriggling in his arms. 

Niall laughs. Half the presents in the boot are for her. When he glances up to see Zayn at the other side of the table, he expects to see him laughing too -- not the stricken expression on his face instead. He thinks he recognises this face -- Niall had seen the same one in the mirror last night. 

“I want a baby,” Zayn blurts out and there’s a scrape of a knife across a plate as the entire kitchen comes to a complete silence. 

Niall glances over to Harry but he’s smiling softly at him across the table, Alya still cradled against him, his arm bouncing her gently. Doniya’s hand has fallen from her foot and she’s watching her brother, jaw slightly dropped from her space opposite him. 

Niall’s chest feels tight as Zayn clears his throat. He looks wildly at Niall for a moment before his eyes land back on Harry with the baby against his chest. 

“We want a baby,” he corrects softly. “Just, um, thought I’d let you all know.”

Harry laughs softly and Niall’s jaw loosens enough to allow him to smile. No one else speaks but Niall catches a few of the glances Zayn’s family share with each other. The raised eyebrows and confused smiles. It’s uncomfortable -- just for the sheer amount of people gathered around the table. It’s a completely different ball game compared to the quiet of the restaurant yesterday. 

Yaser finally reaches up and grips around Zayn’s wrist, tugging him down into the chair beside him. “Have some biryani, your mum’s made it special.”

Niall’s shoulders only relax when he can see Zayn visibly breathe out, his own shoulders falling slightly as he settles in beside his dad. He accepts the plate he’s handed, spooning rice on to it with a steady hand. 

When he lifts his eyes, Niall beams at him. 

One step at a time.

*

Zayn disappears out into the garden with his mum and dad after dinner so Niall leaves them to it. He makes his way through half the dishes, makes more coffee for Zayn’s aunts who pinch at his hip and giggle behind their hands at the kitchen table, and then finds Harry in the front hall pulling on his shoes to head out to the car. 

“Gonna bring all our stuff in before it gets properly dark,” Harry says. 

“Liar.” Niall laughs and shoves his feet into his own shoes. “Just cause Alya’s down for a sleep.”

Harry shrugs, looks a bit bashful and pulls open the front door. “She’s just too cute to put down.”

“Don’t think that gets you out of the rest of the dishes!” Niall warns him as he steps out into the chilly wind. 

“Do you think he’s ok?” Harry asks once they’re down the path and at the car. He pulls open the boot, reaching for the overnight bag they had packed hastily this morning. “They’ve been outside for a while.”

“They’re probably just catching up,” Niall says, and shoulders the bag with presents in. He’s not that worried but Harry worrying will make him worry too so he closes the boot with a snap and turns back towards the house. 

“So,” Doniya says. “Kids?”

Niall looks up and she’s standing -- proper big sister-esque -- on the doorstep with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Um,” Niall starts. He’s not sure they should be having this conversation without Zayn there, but Doniya doesn’t look like she’s in the mood to let them go without a proper chat. 

“Surprise,” Harry says, grinning cheekily. 

Doniya doesn’t look impressed. “How’s that going to work out then?” 

“Gonna knock Niall up,” Harry says lightly but Niall can hear the tightness underneath. “What do you think? He‘d glow.”

Doniya at least cracks a smirk at that one. “Seriously though, you lot gonna adopt?” 

Niall shrugs, wrapping paper and sparkly bows rustling. He know that Alya will probably find them more interesting that what’s inside. “We’re considering other options first.”

Harry clears his throat awkwardly. “Um, we asked my sister. But she’s having her own baby so --”

Doniya’s face softens and Niall knows that Zayn will probably be annoyed that he isn’t here for this conversation. Doniya is far too perceptive for her own good and Niall can see the cogs turning in her head. She opens her mouth to speak but movement behind her makes her pause.

“Hey,” Safaa calls, voice muffled through the glass in the front door before she wrenches it open. “We’re going to do dessert. What’s going on out here then?”

“Nothing,” Doniya snaps. “Piss off.”

“Hey,” she snipes back. There‘s a halo of warm light around her head and Niall can feel the heat of the house through the gap. He wishes he was inside -- his lungs feel like they‘re going to rot out of his chest. But that might not be necessarily all to do with cold. “I’m not a kid anymore. You can tell me. Is this about the baby?”

“Piss. Off.” Doniya repeats, and reaches behind her to pull the door shut around her. Niall can see how Safaa throws her head back and he can imagine how she‘s rolling her eyes. He grins at the thought. He loves this type of sibling banter, he only really gets to see it when they‘re all at Zayn’s. He wants that for his kid. He wants them all gathered around the kitchen table like Zayn’s family is today. 

Niall takes a deep breath at the thought, letting it out on a big grin. Harry gives him a look, mouth twisted, and Niall just smiles, cementing that feeling of kids underfoot, a big family in a big house. 

“Alright,” Doniya says to catch their attention again. Niall turns his head, even though all he wants is to lean into Harry and kiss his cold mouth. 

“Zayn should be here,” Niall says instead. He would be annoyed if had been left out. And that’s the last thing he wants Zayn to feel. “He needs to be here for this.”

Doniya gives him another soft look but concedes, stepping back into the front door and kicking it open. 

“Don’t let your mum see you do that,” Harry mutters as he shuffles in after her. They go into the living room first, dropping all the bags in the corner. 

“I wish you were staying with us longer,” Trisha says and presses two cold hands to Niall’s cheeks. He leans in for a proper hug. “It always feels like a full house when you’re all here.”

Niall pulls her in, lets her clutch him close to her. She seems a bit wobbly after their chat outside and when he glances up he can see Zayn standing in the doorway between the living room and the dining room looking just as shaken. She sinks into him and holds on tight. 

“I love you boys,” she mutters into his ear. When she pulls away, her eyes looks slightly glassy. Harry swoops in then, never a man to miss out on a hug.

“We love you too,” Harry tells her honestly and she beams at him, slinking back across the living room to hug Zayn too. 

“Zayn,” Doniya says. “Can I speak to you?”

“Not now, Don,” Zayn mutters. He looks exhausted, worn out by the afternoon. Niall catches Harry send him a concerned look across the living room. 

“Nope,” Doniya shakes her head. “Now. I’ve a few things I want to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Safaa says sarcastically. “Something _secret_. Something I’m not allowed to know about.”

“What is it?” Waliyha asks from where she’s curled into the side of the sofa. There’s a cup of tea sitting precariously on the arm of it and Trisha lifts it on her way past. 

“Don’t be so bloody nosy,” Doniya groans, placing a hand on her hip. She’s got a baby monitor strapped to it, the lights flickering between two light green bars. 

“Be nice to your sisters,” Trisha says as if they aren’t all adults. “Right, who wants some cake?”

“Me,” Safaa says and lifts an arm into the air. 

“I’ll give you a hand,” Zayn says and shuffles out after his mum into the kitchen. 

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Doniya says irritably, following him out. “I’ll have your baby Zayn.”

The room goes silent for the second time today. Niall can hear his own rough breath. 

“Thank god, I thought I was going to have to offer,” Waliyha says with a laugh. “Pencil me in for baby number two.”

“What?” Zayn finally asks, disbelief written all over his face. He glances around at everyone gathered in the kitchen. Safaa clears her throat and his eyes widen. 

“No,” he says resolutely and Safaa smiles at him. 

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to throw my name in too,” Safaa says lightly. Harry lets go of a relieved laugh and Zayn’s face breaks into a grin, nose wrinkling as he pulls her into a side hug. 

“Definitely not,” he murmurs, but his eyes are locked on Doniya across the room. 

“This isn’t a decision you make on a whim, Don,” Zayn says when Safaa wriggles out to make more tea. Trisha looks like she needs a sit down but Waliyha goes to stand next to her, a hand on her elbow. 

“I know,” Doniya says. “But I want to help you out. You’re my baby brother, Zayn, I want you to be happy.”

Zayn smiles thinly. 

“And I’ve had a baby already,” she says quietly. “I know exactly what it would take to carry your kid.” 

“I didn’t think you’d offer,” Zayn says honestly, glancing at Niall and Harry before looking back at Doniya. “Thought it would be a no and it would be over with.” 

Niall loves how honest Zayn is at home, open to sharing everything he’s thinking even though his whole family is in the room. Doniya smiles at him and they meet in the middle of the kitchen. Niall feels the warmth in his chest, as if she had went over and hugged an arm around him too.

“Are you sure?” Zayn asks. “You can say no. You can say no at any point.”

“I know that,” she says and then Zayn’s burying his head into her hair. Niall can hear him thanking her in a low murmur. 

Harry’s hand slips into his, just a finger hooking around his thumb and then he’s slipping into the hug too, his hand spread wide across Doniya’s back. 

Niall meets Zayn’s eyes over her shoulder and slips in the other side, humming into the side of Zayn’s neck. 

“Love you, Doniya,” Harry murmurs, voice going rough and she laughs warmly. Niall squeezes his fingers against her side and then there’s more people crowding in -- Zayn’s mum and sisters fitting in the spaces between them and the heavy hand of Zayn’s dad landing comfortably on Niall’s shoulder. Niall grins and has never felt more like part of their ever-growing family. 

*

“Get in,” Zayn says, nudging him square in the back with his knuckles. 

“You make it sound like I’m an old man,” Harry mutters and kneels onto the single bed in Safaa’s old room. The walls are still a garish shade of pink but the bedspread is slightly more adult. It’s still a single bed though and given Harry’s recent back trouble they’ve decided he should be in there and not on the floor. 

“That’s cause you are,” Zayn grins at him, leaning in to kiss him quickly on his nose. Harry snorts and sinks down into the pillows. 

“Fine,” Harry huffs as Zayn lies back on the nest of pillows Niall‘s made. “I hope the floor is comfy.”

“It is,” Niall says and rolls on top of Zayn. Zayn laughs underneath him, chest shuddering with every breath. 

Harry snorts and shuffles about, pulling the duvet up round his shoulders until only his face is poking out of it. 

“You alright?” Niall asks Zayn quietly. The house is silent around them, the three of them going up to bed last after they had finished washing the dishes and turning off the lights. He hasn’t had a moment with Zayn on his own all evening. He’d been pulled pillar to post to speak with all his family.

“Yeah,” Zayn says and smiles up at him. “It feels strange, doesn’t it?”

“What does?” Niall asks quietly. Their legs are tangled, the blanket twisted between them already before they’ve even had a chance to toss and turn. Zayn slides a hand up the back of Niall’s t-shirt to settle against the warm skin of his hip. Niall lets go of some of the weight he’s holding in his elbows, planted at either side of Zayn’s head. It brings them flush together and Zayn hums, leaning up to kiss him too. 

“That Doniya said yes.” Zayn says when he breaks away. Niall can feel Harry’s eyes on them but he doesn’t look up, just keeps his focus on Zayn’s bright eyes. He can see the excitement start to settle and it ignites something giddy in Niall too. “That we’re one step closer to --”

Niall grins at him, leaning down to brush his lips across Zayn’s. He’s got a bit of stubble that Niall’s top lip catches on but Zayn licks out to smooth over it afterwards. 

“One step away from becoming a daddy?” Niall asks when he pulls back again. Zayn’s face opens out into smile. 

“One step closer to all of us becoming a daddy.” 

Harry flops onto the ground with a soft thump, still all wrapped up in the duvet. 

“Love you guys,” he says softly, wriggling over to where Niall’s got Zayn spread out underneath him. 

“Love you too,” Niall answers for the both of them, holding open an arm for him to join the hug. It feels like he’s spent the whole evening saying that to people but there hasn’t been a moment where he means it more. “Love you both.”

“We’re not fucking on the floor of my little sister’s bedroom,” Zayn tells them quietly. Harry tuts. 

“We are mature adults, Zayn,” he says as he presses up to them front first. “We wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Yeah,” Niall laughs, and rolls his hips down into Zayn. Zayn groans slightly but his fingers press sharply into Niall’s skin, nearly a nip. 

“I’m not letting you,” Zayn says again. He glances over at Harry. “And will you get back up onto the bed? You spent the whole day rigid in the car.” 

“Never,” Harry says stubbornly and wriggles closer to Niall. “Plus, you like when I’m rigid.” 

Niall grins, opens up the folds of the duvet until he can wrestle Harry into their own cocoon of blankets. His skin is hot to the touch. Zayn sighs, resigned as Harry digs his elbow into Niall’s ribs and they both swear loudly.

“You’ll wake everyone up,” Zayn hisses but Harry flattens a hand on his chest, thumb skimming over his nipple to shut him up. 

Harry laughs but settles quietly against him.

“Okay,” Harry concedes. “No fucking. But I want to sleep down here.”

Niall sees the way Zayn’s face softens. “Alright,” Zayn murmurs and they wriggle together on their makeshift bed, none of them left out. 

They stay quiet for a while, just the sounds of their familiar breathing before Zayn speaks. 

“My dad,” he whispers. “Used to call us all little birds when we were babies.”

Niall feels Harry twist his head, looking over to where Zayn’s still staring up at the ceiling. 

“I only really remember him doing it with Safaa,” Zayn keeps going. “He’d rub at mum’s belly and say that there was a little bird in there. A tiny thing that would grow until it’s big and strong. A beautiful bird with its power in its wings. He sometimes still calls her that.” Zayn snorts softly and turns his head. Niall can see his eyes shine. “I think Waliyha was a bit miffed that she was actually just a baby.”

Harry reaches across and settles a hand against his cheek. 

“I can’t believe she’s going to do it,” Zayn says honestly, voice raw. He gives them a wobbly smile. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, and Niall hears the way Zayn’s throat works as he swallows. His mouth drops open but not to speak, he just breathes, eyes locked with Harry’s. Niall can’t think of anything to say, nothing important enough, so he pulls him in, hugs him tight until his arms go limp with sleep. 

*

It’s strange being home and not doing anything. 

Like they’re sitting on a big secret and can’t do anything about it. 

Zayn shuffles about the house in a pair of ratty pyjama bottoms that have seen better days trying to get used to their time off while Harry throws himself back into all sorts of research with renewed vigour. 

Harry’s not there when Niall wakes up, his hand flopping down into the space of still warm sheets behind him. 

Zayn’s still fast asleep, mouth slightly open as he breathes damply into the pillow Niall’s lying on. 

“Morning,” he whispers, and presses his lips to his slack mouth. His skin is warm and it takes all of Niall’s strength not to curl into him and fall back to sleep. 

He pads downstairs instead and comes across Harry in the living room. 

“What are you doing?” Niall asks, raking his eyes across the stretch of his skin over his back, knobs of his spine sticking out as he bends over. He’s in the pair of loosest boxers Niall’s ever seen, he doesn’t even know where he’s got them. 

“Yoga,” Harry says, head upside down and growing red with the blood rush. “It takes seventy-five days to grow sperm -- I looked it up -- so I want to get really healthy. Give them a good chance, you know?” 

“And it recommended you do yoga?” Niall asks sceptically. 

Harry shakes his head, inhales deeply and closes his eyes as he breathes out. Niall rolls his eyes. 

“Nah, just eat loads of fruit, detox, wear boxers. That sort of stuff,” Harry says, eyes opening again. “But I thought, healthy mind, healthy dick. So, yoga.”

Niall frowns and watches as Harry twists himself into a new position. “Don’t really think that’ll help anything down there.”

Harry grins at him, bending over again. It doesn’t take all that much effort to walk over and snap the elastic of his waistband. They’re definitely not as nice as Harry walking around in his tiniest, tightest boxer briefs but he can deal when he bends over like his. 

“You’ll make me fall over!” Harry warns him, shuffling forward as much as he can. Niall snorts, rubs his palm over his arse cheek before poking his fingers into the crease of his arse through the material. “Ah, fuck.”

Harry sprawls nicely over the floor, hair catching on the fluffy rug that Zayn had demanded be taken from his house when he moved in. 

“You’ll twist a testicle,” Niall tells him, only half joking as he reaches down to him. Harry blows a bit of hair out of his face and accepts his hand up, tangling their fingers together and pulling him towards the kitchen. 

“I’ve made breakfast,” Harry tells him, dropping his hand long enough to hit the switch to the blender. 

“Oh, here we go,” Niall mutters, because he’d been around the last time Harry had tried his magic juice diet. And for the subsequent explosive diarrhoea. 

“Don’t come complaining to me when I have mighty sperm,” Harry replies once he’s let his thumb off the button and Niall can hear himself think again. 

The liquid in the blender is an off-putting shade of green and still a little bit lumpy when he divides it into three glasses. Harry knocks it back easily, used to all this shit, but Niall has to build up his resolve, his gag reflex already kicking in as he raises it to his lips. 

It tastes ghastly. Something solid that needs a good chewing lying wetly on his tongue. 

“Fuck,” Niall swears and spins towards the sink. He spits out a lump of something dark green and Harry watches him innocently, jaw working to swallow some of his own. “Why can’t you just put fruit in it like a normal person?”

Harry shrugs. “I was just following the recipe. It’s kind of nice, you’ll get used to it.”

Zayn stumbles in then, bleary eyed and heads straight for the fridge. “Why are you all up so early?” 

“It’s after lunchtime,” Harry supplies helpfully, walking across the kitchen to give him his glass. Zayn surveys him warily, glancing him up and down before opening the door to the fridge. 

“No thanks,” he mutters, reaching for the drum of milk instead. “Why the fuck are you wearing underwear from the nineteen-hundreds?” 

Harry huffs. “They are baggy for the more well-endowed man, you’d know nothing about it.”

Zayn gives him a sarcastic smile and tips his head back, drinking straight from the carton. 

“He’s giving himself super sperm,” Niall fills Zayn in because Harry’ll never give him a straight answer now. Zayn chokes a bit as he swallows and when he moves his hand, there’s a ring of milk on his upper lip. 

“I thought we could do it together, it’s not that hard.” Harry reaches forward to thumb away the milk on his lip. Zayn opens his mouth on instinct. “Just eat more fruit and stop wearing tiny pants.”

Harry’s thumb drags along Zayn’s lip. Zayn looks much more awake now. 

“Think I’ll still pass,” Zayn says, tongue coming out unnecessarily to lick at the pad of Harry’s finger. Niall sees him flash a grin before he pulls away. 

“Good,” Niall smiles at him, flicking his eyes down the length of Zayn’s body. “I like you in tiny pants.”

Zayn waggles his eyebrows at him.

“Well, I don’t know about Niall,” Harry says, ignoring the exchange completely. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out one of the trays of fruit he’s addicted to buying off the reduced section on his three am Tesco runs. “But I’d sure like it if you started eating more pineapple.”

Niall snorts at the face Zayn pulls. 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, dodging out of the way when Harry comes at him with a slice of pineapple that‘s seen better days. “Like your jizz tastes like bloody rainbows.”

“It might not now,” Harry concedes. “But it will in seventy-five days.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and opens his mouth obediently. Harry’s face brightens up and he shoves the slice of pineapple in whole. Zayn chokes a bit, hand coming up to catch the juice dribbling down his chin. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Harry says sweetly, finger and thumb closing around another piece of pineapple. He holds it up for Niall to take. “Ah, ah,” he murmurs when Niall reaches for it. Zayn laughs over Harry’s shoulder when Niall’s forced to open his mouth.

“Is feeding us part of the master plan?” Zayn asks, hand scratching at the hair below his belly button. His eyes on Harry dangling the piece of pineapple up above Niall’s head. 

“Hurry up,” Niall scolds, hitting out with his knuckles against Harry’s chest. Harry laughs and feeds him the piece of fruit, the juice of it bursting across his tongue. 

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head. “But frequent ejaculation is recommended, so --”

He trails off and Zayn shakes his head, looking disappointed in him. Niall swallows the last of the pineapple. 

“Don’t really think that’s a problem you’re currently experiencing,” Zayn mutters and Harry grins at him, dropping the rest of the fruit onto the counter and barrelling into him. 

“Good morning,” he sings into the side of Zayn’s head before swooping in for a kiss. 

Zayn laughs, kisses him back before pushing him away. “Go brush the spinach out of your teeth and I’ll let you see how much the pineapple works.”

“Spinach!” Niall exclaims and looks back at the green concoction Harry had given him. There’s definitely spinach in it. The thought makes him want to gag again. 

Harry laughs, leaning in for a kiss. 

*

Seventy-five-plus days later Niall finds himself in the oddest situation he’s ever experienced. 

The offices are swanky, all set out in white and chrome. The sun beats down outside, streams through the windows, but it still feels a bit cold and sterile. 

There’s odd art on the wall, abstract paintings all in red and blues and if you squint they sort of look like the diagrams he used to hate drawing in fifth year biology. 

“Home-y,” Niall comments as they are ushered down the hallway towards a set of clinical rooms. Harry shoots him a look but Niall knows it’s only because he’s nervous. Zayn doesn’t look too comfortable either, a stack of little plastic cups in his hands. 

They reach the first door and Niall hovers hesitantly in the doorway. It’s even worse inside, the walls white-white and the bed with a scratchy paper disposable cover. 

“Oh, please,” Harry mutters, grabbing the back of Zayn’s t-shirt when he starts heading into the one next door. 

“Won’t they catch us?” Niall asks, letting Harry’s hand at the small of his back guide him into the room. 

“Who cares,” Harry shrugs, pulling the lock on the door shut with a snick. 

“Yeah, cause it’ll look great on the front of some paper,” Zayn comments. Niall glances up at him. 

“We’re paying enough for them to keep quiet,” Harry says. Zayn’s face clouds over a little bit and Niall wishes he hadn’t said anything. Making a baby is supposed to be a fun affair but right now it’s just sending them head first into a nervous breakdown. 

“Is it bad that this isn’t the weirdest thing we’ve done?” Zayn asks mildly, one hand on his waistband. Harry pulls a face, setting the three little cups down onto the counter in front of them. 

“Should we just all go into the same one?” Niall asks, cocking his head. Zayn’s hand always looks so nice resting there. Like a promise of what he can do with it. How he can show off. “So it really could be any of us.” 

Harry glances up at him as Zayn starts to laugh. 

“Did you not read anything I gave you?” he asks, sounding seriously miffed. Niall shrugs. He had better things to do.

“They inject a whole pile of the little donor eggs with a selection of sperm and see which ones take,” Zayn speaks up, already dragging his jeans down his thighs. “Then they pick like two and stick them in Doniya and you find out who wins after nine months.”

“Who _wins_ ,” Niall repeats with a smirk but Harry’s grinning proudly at him. 

“You read it,” he states, shuffling over -- belt clinking where it’s undone -- to hug him. 

Zayn gives him a look but grins into his shoulder when Harry hugs him. 

“Course I did,” Zayn tells him with a laugh. “It’s not everyday I wank off into a plastic cup. Need to be prepared, y‘know?”

Harry grins at him, leaning in for a kiss. Zayn pushes for more but Harry pulls away to speak to him.

“I’m glad you did,” Harry whispers but the room is so tiny that Niall hears him anyway. “I’ll help you wank off, if you like.”

“What do you think? How could I say no to that?” Zayn asks, voice dropped down low. 

Niall leans back into the chair that they’ve supplied. It’s expensive but it doesn’t take away from the clinical feel to the room. There’s a dodgy looking set of magazines in the corner and he blanches, swallows around his dry mouth -- Niall’s not sure he could’ve gotten hard if he didn’t have his two boyfriends in the room with him. 

But they are in the room and are putting on a rather lovely show in front of him so he kicks off his shorts just as Harry gets to his knees. 

“Remember this all has to go into a cup,” Niall reminds them helpfully as he sticks his hand into his pants. Zayn holds a hand up for him to come closer. 

Niall presses into the space under Zayn’s arm, dropping his gaze to watch what Harry’s doing. 

“Sort of feels like the good old days,” Harry says once he's helped Zayn wriggle out of his jeans. Zayn and Niall share a glance.

"You been doing this with other people?" Niall asks. “Because I’ve never done this before.”

Zayn laughs. "Yeah, don't think this is a common occurrence."

Harry shrugs, reaching into Zayn’s boxers to get a hand around his dick. He’s already starting to fill out. Harry thumbs at his dick and looks up thoughtfully. "We've taken part in a fair few circle jerks."

Zayn properly laughs then, eyes gone crinkly. "Well, when you put it like that."

Harry just grins at him, eagerly leaning in to tongue over where Zayn’s boxers are already growing damp. Niall curls around Zayn’s shoulders, keeping close to his side as Harry rids him of his underwear too, Zayn kicking it off into the corner. 

Niall snuffles a laugh into his neck and licks at his skin, tastes where he’s warm and familiar. Zayn groans slightly, cocking his head so he can give Niall more room to work. 

"C'mon," Zayn says, voice dropping down a notch. He’s got his other hand in Harry’s hair, guiding him back to where he’s getting started on Zayn’s dick. Niall can hear the soft, wet noises as Harry starts to suck him in earnest. "C'mon, Daddy."

Niall lets out a disgruntled groan that Zayn matches with a laugh. He has to look away, eyes focusing on the clinical chair instead.

"Thought we agreed we weren't going to do that?" Niall asks.

Zayn laughs again. "Yeah, but look how much he gets off on it."

Niall swings his head round to see the pink of Harry's mouth, dropped open as he looks up at them. Zayn tightens his fingers where they are at the crown of his head, hair twisting between them.

"Fuck," Niall swears and presses his thumb into the plush of his bottom lip. Harry breathes against it for a moment before licking it into his mouth. Niall groans, cupping his hand around Zayn’s shoulder to pull him closer. 

Zayn kisses him like he’s drinking him in, tongue plush against his bottom lip. Harry’s still on his knees and Niall groans when he feels him leave his hand to nuzzle at his dick. 

He kisses his way down Niall’s belly, licking into his belly button and nipping at the skin above his waistband before he drags his boxers down. Niall gasps into Zayn’s mouth, lets them roam their hands over his skin until he forgets about the chill of the room and the people going about their business in the doctor’s office outside the door. 

He fills up Harry’s mouth easily, growing thicker as Harry sucks him down. His mouth is already wet from where he was sucking at Zayn. 

“You feel so good,” Niall tells him encouragingly, dragging his mouth away from Zayn’s to look down at where Harry’s working his dick over with his mouth. He has a hand pressed to the bulge of Zayn’s balls and Niall groans, scratching lightly behind Harry’s ear. 

“C’mon,” Zayn says, rolling his hips slightly until Harry goes back to him, mouth obscene, tongue licking out before he sucks the head of Zayn’s dick into his mouth. He leaves there, sucking shallowly around him for a few moments before he takes him in, eyes flicking up when Zayn sinks his hand through his hair. 

“Fuck,” Zayn says with a soft moan. He sounds perfect like that, just on the edge of desperate and disbelieving. Niall sucks on his jaw, scraping his teeth over the stubble there. 

Harry’s hand curls around him and Niall rotates his hips into it, revelling in the way Harry carefully tightens his hand around his dick and tugs. He’s kissing his way down Zayn’s neck when he feels the wet heat of Harry’s mouth on him again, kissing his way down Niall’s dick and pushing at his foreskin.

Niall pants loudly when he pulls them together, Harry trying to stretch his mouth over both of them at the same time. The head of Zayn’s dick is a sticky friction when they brush together, Harry’s thumb rubbing just underneath the crown of Niall’s when he tries to fit his mouth around them. He settles for licking sloppily over them, kissing down with his lips and stroking up, a firm grip squeezing them together. He pulls of Zayn, a trail of spit attached pearly at his bottom lip before he pushes his tongue against Niall’s. Harry groans then and it makes Niall’s chest feel tight, the knowledge that he’s getting off on this too even without anyone touching him. 

Zayn reaches down suddenly, fists his hand in Harry’s hair. “Niall’s going to come.”

Niall gasps because he suddenly is, he can feel the fiery heat pooling in his gut, weighing him down. Zayn had known before he even had. He moans again -- fuck the cup, he just wants to come. 

“No, no,” Zayn says against his lips, pushing at his shoulder until he stumbles back. Niall presses his hand to the base of his dick, feels where it’s wet from Harry’s spit. Harry’s breathing harshly on the floor, still on his knees and full dressed. 

“Get up,” Zayn urges him, pulling him into a rough kiss. Niall watches them, the flick of a tongue across Harry’s mouth so Zayn can get a taste of them. 

Harry makes quick work of his trousers, pushing them down his thighs just far enough until he can a hand on his dick. He’s already rock hard, just from having them both in his mouth. 

Niall risks a stroke of his dick, palm collecting a mess of pre-come and spit and he works it down his dick, Harry copying his actions opposite him. 

“Don’t make that face,” Zayn gasps out but his mouth is curling up at the edges. 

“What’s wrong with my face?” Harry asks, slightly indignant even when slurred.

Zayn groans, sucks in a breath. “It’s that face that you make when you can’t hit a high note. You look in pain.”

Harry’s hand actually pauses. Niall can‘t, he strips his dick faster, chasing his orgasm. 

“Excuse me?” Harry demands.

“Fuck,” Niall snorts, laughing at the way he’s getting angry when he still looks so turned on, trousers around his ankles and shirt hiked up around his armpits. Zayn starts laughing, rough and dirty and Niall gives in, lets his toes curl against the linoleum floor as he starts to come. 

_“Cup!”_ Harry squawks and there’s someone touching him, guiding him into a plastic dish. 

“Fuck,” Niall groans. He feels a bit shell-shocked. It felt good but Niall doesn’t think it’ll be one to remember for the orgasm alone. 

“Well,” Harry tuts and holds up his jar to the light. It doesn’t look like there’s much in it, most of it still on Niall’s hand. “Think me and Zayn could have the advantage here.”

Niall laughs. “Only needs one little swimmer.”

Zayn shakes his head, his hand still working steadily over himself. “Hand me a cup.”

“Ooh,” Harry cries, reaching for the second cup. “Malik’s gonna show you how it’s done.”

“He’s had plenty of practise at pulling himself off,” Niall mutters but watches as Zayn starts to come into the cup, splattering right into it. Harry laughs, one hand reaching out to steady him as he bites his lip. 

“This is like the opposite of hot,” Niall comments and pulls up his boxers. As the sweat cools on the back of his neck and the buzz drains out of him. Zayn breathes loudly, gives him a satisfied smile. Niall leans into him, kisses him messily on the mouth. 

“Oddest thing ever,” Zayn tells him between kisses and Harry groans. 

“C’mon,” Harry puffs out. “Help me out here.”

Niall reaches for him, presses his chest up against his back. He’s more than soft now but Harry backs into his crotch, rubs desperately at the sharp cut of his hips.

“You gonna come for me?” Zayn asks him softly and Niall sighs into the sweaty skin of Harry’s shoulder, rubs his fingers down over his hip and into the scratchy hair that Harry’s letting grow back around the base of his dick. 

He can hear them kiss, rough and wetly. Niall presses his lips against his shoulder blade, lets his fingers slip around Harry’s dick. They brush Harry’s wrist, the two of them tugging him off together. 

“You gonna come for Daddy?” 

“Fuck,” Harry growls and then his hand is gone, his back stiffening. Zayn laughs abruptly, catching all of his come in the third little pot as Niall milks it out of him. He hears Harry suck in a breath and then he’s leaning back, going limp against Niall’s chest. 

The three of them stand quietly for a moment. 

“Weirdest way I’ve made a baby yet,” Harry tells them quietly and then they’re laughing, making far too much noise than they should be. 

*

“It has to be Zayn,” Louis says. He‘s lying across one of the sofas in their living room. “Those cheekbones.”

Zayn makes no move to object. Niall smirks at him across the table as Harry squawks indignantly to his left. 

“You’re supposed to be bashful about it!” Harry says, outraged. He points a finger at him as Niall starts to laugh. “At least protest a little.”

Zayn shrugs, fingers cradled loosely around his beer. He raises it to his lips and looks so effortlessly cool that Niall’s ridiculously pleased he gets to kiss that mouth. He doesn’t think he could handle any competition anymore. 

“Well,” Harry starts. He glances around for a moment before he slings his arm around Niall’s shoulder, dragging him in by the elbow hooked around his neck. “I vote Niall. He’d be cute.”

Niall snorts but he can feel his cheeks blush anyway. Harry makes a cooing noise, tugging him into his neck. It feels nice so he stays there, turning his head so he’s not being completely rude. Zayn catches his eye from the other sofa, his head cocked to the side and expression fond. 

Niall doesn’t particularly care who sees them, he’s not sure anything could wipe the smile off his face. There’s nothing set in stone yet -- Doniya hasn’t even gone to the hospital yet but Niall has a good feeling. It’s not everyday he spunks into a cup for a baby.

“This is the part where you all say it should be me,” Harry reminds them and Niall laughs into his jaw. 

“This is the part where you don’t all turn to mush,” Louis corrects him. Niall shrugs and holds a hand up. Zayn stands up almost immediately, coming around the table and squeezing onto the seat beside them. 

Harry laughs, Niall can feel it against his ear as they both pull Zayn in. 

“Oh Christ,” Louis says, loud enough for them to hear. “Here we go.”

“Nah, it’s cute,” Liam says quietly from where he’s tucked up in the corner. He looks exhausted, dark shadows under his eyes but he’s smiling, a beer cradled in his hand. 

“You want another one?” Niall asks him, extracting himself from the knot of Harry and Zayn’s arms. Liam shrugs but Louis is already nodding. 

“Course he does, first night out in ages,” Louis tells him. “Isn’t it? Going to get you drunk, Payno.”

Liam snorts. “Don’t think it’ll take very much. I haven’t drank in like a month.”

“We’ll soon sort that,” Louis promises him. Niall grins and slips off to the kitchen, grabbing five beers from the vegetable box in the fridge. He supposes soon he’ll actually have to use that section for vegetables soon, once the baby comes. 

Zayn and Harry are still tangled together when he gets back to the living room but they’re at least participating in the conversation. He takes a seat beside them as Liam finishes a story about the baby, trailing off when Louis starts to laugh. 

“Promise me,” he says, turning to the other three. “That you’ll not turn into Liam with his boring dad stories.”

“Hey,” Liam says and kicks at his knee. Harry raises his beer in agreement. “They aren’t boring.”

Louis grins at him. “I know. They aren’t,” he concedes and reclines back in his chair. “Just didn’t think you lot were all such broody bastards.”

Harry throws a bottle cap at him. “Once you’ve done the deed you’ll start acting like it too.”

Louis shrugs him off. They’re quiet then, quiet enough for Niall to go back to watching the golf that’s on the telly in the corner. Harry has his head pillowed against Zayn’s chest and Liam looks like he could drop off at any moment. 

“Would you ever find out?” Louis asks quietly. Niall blinks over at him. He knows what he’s talking about, even without him saying it. 

“Don’t think so,” Zayn answers quietly. “I think it might be obvious but --” He clears his throat and Niall reaches over to touch his thigh. “I don’t need to know.”

“No matter what, it’s our baby,” Harry says sweetly. “All three of us.”

Niall leans in, settles his head against Zayn’s shoulder. Louis’ mouth curves up. 

“I’m happy for you guys, y’know,” Louis says then, quiet and sincere. Niall glances up at him and he’s smiling at them softly. “All of you.” Louis glances over at Liam who smiles sleepily back. 

“We’re happy too,” Niall murmurs and it doesn’t come out quite how he means it but it works. He opens an arm for Louis to tumble in, Liam following quietly after until they’re all sprawled out across the sofa. 

 

*

They set Doniya up in the living room. She looks pale but smiles when Harry silently slips onto the sofa beside her, throwing his legs over the side too so she doesn’t feel as stupid. Zayn watches them fondly from the door before he takes off his coat and hangs it over the banister. 

“Everything go ok?” Niall asks him, lingering in the chilly front hall in just his sock soles. Zayn nods and gives him a grin. Niall hugs him, it’s hard not to with the way he looks so quiet and soft. 

“Fingers crossed,” Zayn says, pressing his lips against Niall’s cheek. “I’m gonna make lunch.”

Niall nods, lets him leave towards the kitchen. The living room is quiet, the TV turned down low. Doniya’s got her eyes closed but she’s not sleeping, she’s got that same look Zayn gets when he’s pretending. 

“Do you feel pregnant yet?” Harry asks her after a while. She’s hardly been in the house longer than twenty minutes. Doniya laughs and pats at his hand. 

“No,” she tells him honestly. She drags her eyes over where his ankles are crossed in the air in front of him. “Do you?” 

Harry smiles at her sheepishly. “Just excited.”

“Me too,” she says with a smile. Harry pulls his legs up and turns on the sofa. He flashes Niall a soft smile and curls up beside Doniya instead. 

“Do you mind?” Harry asks shyly and Niall can see the way Doniya’s eyes flash with confusion before she shrugs. 

“Hi, little bird,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to talk to Doniya’s stomach. Doniya’s laugh turns into a quiet gasp. She glances up and shares a smile with Zayn. Niall feels a thread of warmth in his gut. 

“There’s nothing there yet,” Doniya assures him, sliding her hand down to cup at her abdomen but Harry shrugs. 

“Just letting it know,” Harry tells her. Niall can tell he’s not looking up on purpose. It sort of makes his eyes sting and his throat burn to watch him like this. He can see how much Harry wants this written on his face, that vulnerable hope shining through his skin. 

“However small you may be that you’re already loved,” Harry pauses. “You’ve got three really excited daddies waiting on you.”

He glances up at Doniya’s face and then ducks in quickly to press his lips against the flat of her stomach. Doniya laughs softly and pets at his hair again.

“He’ll be a nightmare when you’re actually pregnant,” Zayn tells her and she grins up at him. 

“Like you all won’t,” Doniya says and then rubs where Harry had kissed her jumper. She meets Harry’s eyes determinedly. “Even this one in here.”

Harry beams at her. 

*

Days grow into weeks and it becomes increasingly tedious as they flirt around the subject of babies and pregnancy. Doniya checks in now and again but even she’s getting tired of Harry’s constant enquiries after her health. 

They do their best to keep their mind off it, letting nature take its course. Niall tinkers with his guitar and Zayn slips up North every few days to help out at Doniya’s. Harry starts his pet project -- painting spare rooms and spends days on end out in Niall’s overgrown garden. 

“I don’t see what you can do about it in the winter,” Niall reminds him from the doorway. It’s freezing out today too but Harry’s bundled in a scarf and hunkered down pruning old leaves out of the planter that runs along the side of the garden. 

“It could be finished ten times quicker if you came out and helped me,” Harry suggests. Niall sends him a look and stays put. He can hear Zayn shuffle about behind him but doesn’t look over his shoulder, preferring the view of Harry’s arse in the air.

“Are you coming with me to get a tree?” Niall asks when Harry lands in a flowerbed with a thud. He lifts his hand and finishes his tea. The mug is still warm so he keeps it pressed between his palms as Harry glances round. 

“Why are we even getting one? We head up to mum’s in a few days.”

Niall shrugs. “It’ll make the place feel home-y.”

“Yeah,” Harry says and stands up, brushing off his knees. “I could get some broad bean seedlings and plant them against the wall of the garage. They’re about the only thing in-season.”

Niall rolls his eyes and steps back into the warmth of the kitchen. Harry grins at him, pulling off his gardening gloves and reaching for his jaw. 

“Fuck off,” Niall warns him but Harry presses his freezing fingers to his skin anyway. Niall squeaks, drawing up his shoulders to try and shrug him off. Harry cackles into his face before pressing his cool lips into Niall’s mouth. 

“Go get washed,” Niall says, pulling away from with a shiver. Harry grins at him and disappears through the door to the living room. 

“Harry,” Zayn shrieks and Niall knows that he’s done his hand trick on him too. He laughs, shuffling over to the doorway to watch them kiss against the side of the armchair, illuminated by the weak wintery sunlight streaming through the window. 

“You coming with us, Zayn?” Niall asks him. 

“Nah,” Zayn says, pulling away just long enough to speak before kissing Harry soundly on the lips. “I’m sure you can pick one without me. Just --” He gives Harry a stern look. “-- go classy, yeah? I don’t want to have to sit beside a tacky tree and pretend it’s pretty for the next week.”

“Me,” Harry gasps, mock shocked. “Tacky?”

Harry presses his cold nose against Zayn’s jaw one more time before drawing back and pulling on a new coat. He looks better in this one -- much more himself rather than like he’s set for pottering about an allotment. Although, Niall wouldn’t put it past him that Harry would garden in expensive French woolen coats. 

The garden centre isn’t that far away. Niall drives and lets Harry fiddle with the radio, cranking it up when a Christmas song comes on and they pull into the carpark belting out the tune to Christmas Wrapping as they climb out of the car, radio long shut off with the engine. 

Harry grabs his hand as they walk towards the gate and Niall hides his smile in the material of his scarf. It’s not exactly public -- a garden centre on the edge of the sleepy suburb on a winter’s day -- but it always sends an illicit thrill down his spine when one of them allows himself to show off their relationship where someone might see. Niall would never have dared a few years ago but there’s an elusive air of who-the-fuck-cares sometimes when they can risk it. 

He tightens his fingers, squeezing at Harry’s knuckles through two layers of woolie gloves. 

“We’ll need lights,” Harry says, tugging him over towards the Christmas shop. “And decorations.” 

“And an angel for the top?” Niall asks. 

Harry drags off his scarf with his free hand and smiles sweetly at him. “Don’t think you’d fit.”

Niall rolls his eyes but bites his lip to stop himself from kissing him -- they might hold the odd hand in public, but they’re not quite ready to snog in the middle of a greenhouse full of twinkly fairy lights. 

Harry breaks away from him to grab a basket, loading it with sparkly stars and ornate baubles while Niall grabs a few boxes of lights and dodges the mountains of tinsel on tables along the wall. He can follow Zayn’s orders even if Harry can’t. The shop is huge and busy, even this close to Christmas, so Niall meanders along the tarpaulin-covered uneven floors and gazes at the colourful decorations. 

There’s elaborate train sets and fairies on strings, plastic Santa Stop Here signs and disproportionately red-nosed Rudolphs. He walks past a particularly creepy nativity scene that he hopes hasn’t managed to make it into Harry’s basket when he comes across him, stood stock still in the middle of an aisle, getting in the way of a little old lady. 

“What’ve you found?” Niall asks walking up behind him. “Something that doesn’t go with the colour scheme?” He glances at the basket and doesn’t think there’s much of a scheme at all. Zayn will kill him. 

Harry doesn’t speak and Niall pokes him in the shoulder with the corner of one of the boxes. “Styles,” he says with a laugh. “Speak to me.”

“Look,” Harry says. His voice is filled with awe. Niall steps carefully around the basket at their feet and glances at Harry’s hand, pink from the cold where he’s pulled off a glove to handle the delicate ornaments. 

It’s a bird, wings delicately extended. It’s made out of glass and the way it catches the light makes it sparkle and shine. Harry’s staring down at it, cradling it preciously in the palm of his hand. Etched along the bottom is _Baby’s First Christmas._

“We can’t,” Niall says but there’s no heat in it. He knows he won’t be able to stop him. There’s something tight in his chest making him wary. 

There’s no baby yet. And Harry’s already buying decorations to put on a tree.

Niall isn’t sure how he’ll take it if he unwraps the decorations next year and there isn’t a baby on its way. 

“Isn’t it tempting fate?” Niall asks, playing the superstitious card. 

As expected, Harry ignores him. He closes his hand around it carefully and picks up the basket with his other hand. 

“It’s just a decoration,” he tells him, eyes glittering. “I want something to remember this by. This Christmas will be just as important as a baby’s first one.” He takes a breath and corrects himself. “Our baby’s first one.”

Niall stares at him. Everything is telling him it’s a bad idea but Harry smiles gently at him, leans in until Niall can nearly feel the heat radiating off his face before he backs away again, leading the way to the double doors out into the trees. 

It’s cold outside, the wind brisk as the sky darkens. It sears the back of Niall’s throat when he breathes in but it’s good, clears his head and his heart because Harry’s still got the bird pressed to his chest like it will break otherwise. 

They find a good spruce near the back of the maze of trees, wide enough that it will fill out the space between the living room and the kitchen but not too tall that they’ll kill themselves decorating it. Harry slips off to pay, leaving Niall with the task of somehow jamming it all into the back seat of the car, much to Harry’s amusement when he returns twenty minutes later with a grin on his face. Niall’s waiting in the car, hand to the blower beside the steering wheel, when Harry dumps the bags into the backseat and climbs in beside him.

“What took you so long?” Niall asks him. 

Harry grins at him. “Forgot the tinsel.”

The drive back home is quieter than the way up, Niall concentrating on the road and Harry sitting quietly beside him, a little bundle of tissue paper in his lap. 

The house is all lit up when they pull into the drive and Zayn reluctantly comes out to help drag the tree in. He’s in Niall’s slippers and a thin t-shirt, shivering as they manage to get it back out of the car. 

Pine needles splay out across the wooden floor as they cut off the mesh around it, the branches unfolding into the space Niall had created this morning. 

“I’m not putting that on a tree,” Zayn warns him when Harry starts pulling lengths of gold and silver tinsel from one of the bags. 

“It’s going on the banister,” Harry tells him. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I’m just gonna chuck it,” Zayn says. “Wait until you’ve fallen asleep and do humanity a favour.”

“Can’t believe you don’t like tinsel,” Harry shakes his head and grabs a stream of garish fuchsia. Niall snorts and turns back to the tree, layering lights around the branches as Harry chases Zayn over the back of the sofa with his tinsel. 

“Get off,” Zayn tells him, but he dissolves into giddy laughter as they sink into the cushions. When Niall’s done lighting up the tree, Harry’s putting the finishing touches to the layered tinsel scarf he’s finally wrapped Zayn in. 

“None of this matches,” Zayn tells him grumpily going to perch on the edge of the sofa. Harry tugs on one end of his adornment and grins at him. 

“That’s the fun of it,” Harry reminds him and joins Niall at the tree. He unwraps one of the baubles -- a mini silver disco ball with glitter snowflakes on it and pulls the string delicately onto the end of a branch. It bobs a little under the weight, dropping down a few inches but stays on. Harry grins at him. 

“We’re pros at this,” Harry says resolutely and reaches for the next one. 

Zayn’s given in by the time most of the tree is adorned, shucking the tinsel around his neck and joining them by the tree. 

Niall opens his eyes, presenting the finished product to him. “Ta da!” Zayn pulls a face and Niall butts in before he can open his mouth and insult their decorating skills again. “It’s got character.”

“At least I only have to look at it for like a day,” Zayn mutters. 

“This has got some class,” Harry says quietly and reaches down for the last little bundle of tissue. 

He gives it to Zayn, holding his palm open underneath him as if he could save it in case Zayn accidentally drops it.

“What is it?” Zayn asks carefully, unravelling the bird from the tissue paper. “Oh.” 

Niall watches him hold it up to the light and it cuts into a spectrum as the fairy lights twinkle through the belly of the bird. It glances prettily off its crystal wings as Zayn holds it up by the fine, golden thread. 

He nestles it into a set of branches in the middle of the tree. Harry beams at it and lets Zayn tug him into his side, his lips brushing against his temple. Niall trips over a trail of tinsel to join them and gives into the bubble of hope in his tummy, wishing that next year there’s someone else with them.

*

It’s chilly on Christmas morning, a thin crunch of frost on the grass but no snow. Niall laughs in Harry’s disappointed face over morning coffee and croissants and then demands the twenty quid he owes him for losing the bet. 

“I don’t have any on me,” Harry says, patting down the pockets of the flannel pyjamas Gemma had bought the three of them for Christmas Eve. They all match -- tailored head to toe in garish red and green flannel because Gemma thought it would be _cute_. Niall had laughed until Harry forced them to wear them, all in the name of Styles Christmas Tradition. 

“So you’ll do a forfeit then?” Niall surmises. Harry narrows his eyes and then runs his hand through his hair, fingers poking out from where the sleeve of his pyjama top is too long. 

“Is it a sexy forfeit?” Harry asks, not caring that his mum is standing behind him peeling Brussels sprouts. Anne snorts and Niall feels his neck heating up against the warm collar. 

“No,” he says as Harry starts to dance over to him, hips gyrating as he crosses the kitchen. Niall laughs at the way his face abruptly drops. “You have to go wake up Zayn.”

Harry groans. “It’s Christmas, that’s not fair.”

Niall grins at him. “That’s what you get.”

“He’s going to be all grumpy and pouty,” Harry says and then throws Niall a pout of his own. He walks into the space between Niall’s knees and Niall leans back into the kitchen table. He’s supposed to be polishing silverware to set the table but so far all he’s done is smear butter from their croissants over the spoons and tease Harry all morning. “That’s not a happy Christmas morning. Why would you make both of us grumpy?”

“I’m not that bad,” Zayn says from the doorway and they all glance up. 

“Merry Christmas, love,” Anne chirps from beside the sink and Zayn goes to her first, kissing her on the cheek. Niall smiles because when they had climbed out of bed this morning, Harry grinning like a kid, he’d been naked under the duvet but Zayn’s wearing his pyjamas now. He’s left the shirt unbuttoned, letting them see the toned expanse of his belly and the creeping ink over his abs. 

“Happy Christmas,” he says to her and then smiles at Niall and Harry across the kitchen. 

“You got off easy this time,” Niall tells Harry and Harry grins, turns slightly and plonks himself right down into Niall’s lap.

“Christmas miracle!” He laughs and watches as Zayn smiles sleepily, flicking on the kettle to make tea at the other side of the kitchen. There’s a box of Quality Street on the counter and he picks through it while he waits for it to come to the boil.

Niall manages to hook his chin over Harry’s shoulder and listens to him breathe. He’d be happy to stay here like this forever. 

“Morning,” Harry purrs when Zayn finally slopes over, teapot in hand. He leans in to hug them, using his height advantage to press his lips against Harry’s forehead. Niall reaches up with the hand that isn’t wrapped around Harry’s midriff and presses it to Zayn’s stomach where his skin is hot. He thumbs across his belly button to make him jump and then inclines his head up, waiting for Zayn to kiss him. 

“Merry Christmas,” he mutters against Niall’s lips before dropping his chin low enough to kiss him properly. Niall smiles into it, tastes the chocolate on his tongue.

“Good, you’re up!” Gemma says excitedly pushing through the door from the living room. She’s huge, her belly round and stretched under her pyjamas. They don’t match, apparently it’s a tradition reserved for the three of them. “Presents!”

“Can’t it wait until later?” Anne asks, armed with a carrot and a potato peeler. 

“No,” Gemma insists. “Now. Don’t keep the angry pregnant lady waiting.”

Anne snorts and flicks on the kettle again as Gemma goes around the house to collect the rest of the wandering family members. 

They gather in the living room and Niall settles on the floor underneath the window. There’s a stream of weak sunlight sliding through the curtains but the tree still sparkles and glitters. It’s much more tasteful than their own at home, much to Zayn‘s delight. Harry sits beside it, knees drawn underneath him as he settles next to the hearth. He looks excited, mouth curving up into a smile as Gemma lowers herself down beside Zayn on the sofa opposite them. 

“Who’s first?” Anne asks when she’s topped up everyone’s cups. 

“Zayn,” Gemma says unexpectedly and settles her hand on his knee. Zayn looks up, startled. 

“Nah,” he says and shakes his head. “Let your mum go first. Or Robin.”

Gemma just smiles and passes him a gold box. “Santa sent it Special Delivery so I think you should open it first.” 

It’s glittery and bright. Zayn just stares at it for a long moment.

“It’s for the three of you.” Gemma says and nudges his bicep. “Go on.”

Zayn slides off the sofa and sits cross legged in front of Harry. Niall shuffles forward until he’s beside them, his ankle pressed to Harry’s calf. 

There’s nervous anticipation building in his gut. He can see Gemma’s grin over Zayn’s shoulder and it makes him squirm. Everyone’s eyes are on them and there’s a moment of embarrassed panic that they’re all watching but Zayn pulls at the bow, the ribbon unfurling easily. 

“Open it,” Harry says and he’s speaking very calmly but Niall can see the way his fingers are shaking. 

Niall doesn’t want to believe his gut. There’s a thought at the back of his head and once he’s heard it he can’t stop coming back to it. This is it.

This morning had felt special, right from the moment he had cracked his eyes open to a patch of Zayn’s shoulder, Harry’s hand a heavy weight on his belly.

He swallows around the lump in his throat because if he says it out loud then it’ll be true and he can’t pull it back. He clamps his mouth shut, breathes through his nose. He tries not to get his hopes up. It’s just a normal present for the three of them. It could be anything.

Zayn’s hand quivers, Harry’s gone stock still. Gemma rubs at her belly absentmindedly, her face growing soft as she watches them. 

Niall’s stomach turns over as Zayn lifts the lid, a sprinkling of glitter dusting the rug as he does so. Harry’s nearly vibrating beside him.

He hears Zayn’s intake of breath and Niall _knows_.

Zayn reaches into the box with a rustle of pale tissue paper and comes out with a little white stick and blue cap. 

“Oh my --” Harry starts but dissolves into tears before he can say anything else, lurching forward to pull Zayn into a tight hug. Gemma’s squealing and Anne’s on her feet explaining all about postmen knocking on their door at ridiculous o’clock yesterday morning and urgent phonecalls with Doniya. 

Zayn looks stunned, eyes wide over the mess of Harry’s hair where he’s sobbing into his shoulder. Harry reaches a hand back first, and then Zayn does the same and Niall feels himself tip forward into their arms.

It’s only then he realises his own face is wet. Only when Zayn kisses him and he can taste salt. Only when Harry tugs him into his flannel-covered shoulder. 

Niall breathes out shallowly and tries to catch it back. Zayn clutches him tighter, Harry’s skin hot where his cheek is pressed to his temple. 

Niall lets his eyes flutter shut and allows himself to smile. 

*

It starts off with a What If?

But ends with a loud wail of a cry in a delivery room. 

Zayn’s up near Doniya’s head -- face pale and hand wrapped around hers. Harry’s all wrapped up in a blue gown, tears already dribbling down his cheeks and Niall’s beside him, trying to not give into how weak his knees feel at the sight of the midwives just delivering their baby. 

Their _baby_.

Zayn stumbles into them, ignoring Doniya’s emphatic rule about staying Above The Waist, eyes already going red and puffy. Niall’s hands clench in the back of Harry’s plastic gown, pulling them both in so they’re close to him. 

One of the nurses looks up. 

“Does Daddy want to cut the cord?” 

No one says a word when all three of them reach for the scissors.


End file.
